The Short Humour Site

Home : Writers' Showcase : Submission Guidelines : A Man of a Few More Words : Links

Writers' Showcase

Gary and Danny the Cheese Sandwich Go to Hell
by George Haerle

Every slice of bread dreams of one day becoming a regal sandwich. They watch their brothers and sisters pulled out of the bag every day wondering, “When will it be my turn? Will I be used for a grand roast beef sub? Or a delectable piece of French toast? Every a slice of bread takes pride in fulfilling its purpose; by filling a hungry stomach and bringing a smile with that first bite. Just like people, they have hopes and dreams too. But just like everyone else these hopes and dreams eventually will crash and burn. This is a tale of a cheese sandwich gone wrong.

Gary and Danny wanted to scream with excitement. They had grown up together since they were flour and yeast, into two strapping slices of fluffy white bread. They had finally been chosen, and overjoyed at the possible wonders of their future.

“Twenty bucks we’re pastrami! Toasted with deli mustard! They look like they might celebrate Ramadan.” Gary gleefully yelled to his brother.

“Oh, that would be wonderful! Just like Grandpa Rye!”

But when they were carelessly slapped on the cutting board, they realized something was wrong.

“Ugh…My head. Danny, are you all right? What happened?”

“We were… Just tossed onto the cutting board. Who would do such a thing?” They watched the giant above them take out a knife and a big block of cheese. “Hey! Cheese is good, maybe we’ll be grilled or used with deli meats!”

“Alright, that’s not bad but just keep an eye on what else she grabs from the fridge,” Gary was gasping for air, his crust still shaking from the fall.

They sat and watched, as all she did was slice away at the big white brick. No meats, condiments, lettuce or tomato. JUST. CHEESE. A smaller giant came into the room, watching the larger one cut the cheese (ha!). Gary and Danny gasped in horror as the truth tore their fluffy wheat hearts out. The smaller giant’s booming words were like trumpets on judgment day:  “Mom, not a cheese sandwich again!”

“Cheese sandwich! What?!” Danny screamed bloody murder.

“Cheese?! That’s it?! That’s more bland and white than Mitt Romney!” Gary raged.

“You bitch!”

“Burn in Hell!”

Like dying villains at the end of a bad Seagal movie, their anger turned to begging mercy.

“Please, if you have any humanity, just a slice of lettuce, please! Just a drop, a DROP, of mustard!” Danny begged.

“I have a wife and two children! I don’t like them very much but it’s a better life than this!” Gary cried. As they were bound to the only dairy product they would ever know (except for possibly some milk), they once again began to shout in hate at the gods who had forsaken them.

“Our brothers will avenge us! I hope they make you choke on a ham sandwich like Mama Cass!” Danny was slipped into a pink, girly, plastic bag.

Gary had to get in the last punch, “Kiss my doughy ass woman! And you, wee one in the plaid uniform! You’re just another brick in the w-“ His final words were cut off as Gary was stuffed into a plastic bag, never to be heard from again.