Mike's Sandwich - A Handsome Pete Monologue

Dang Mike has one tasty looking sandwich. I don't know what it is that draws me in more. Is it the cold cuts, folded over giving you double the meat in every bite? Maybe the bread itself; manna baked in the ovens of angels from the grains of Heaven? Is it perhaps the cheese slices playfully peeking out here and there, winking with their corners with a "hey there stranger" attitude. Cheese, you saucy minx. And speaking to the sauce, what is it on the bread?

It's like some magical concoction. I saw him whipping it up earlier. Mayonnaise was at the base, but all kinds of things went in it. With that amber hue, anyone can tell its taste must be as beautiful as a weeping viola. Then there's the vegetation. A veritable flavor flora spreading out it's leafy, lettuce love; listless, and longing to capture your every thought. All a prelude to the algorithm of the tomato. Is science art? Can art be science? Are the two truly ever separate. What equation, gently nudging you towards the right thickness for the slices? What dark magic decreeing placement and spacing.

Truly, it is a work of the highest order. Perhaps even touching divine inspiration.

So how come he only made one? C'mon, Mike, how you gonna do that? Go on make a sandwich and not sharing... It's like a cruel joke. All I'm saying, is just let me have some. Does the term "splitsies" mean nothing to you?  Mike, I know that sandwich's rights, and it should be with the one it chooses, not who you think it should be with. I appreciate you put work into that relationship, but man, it was like we were made for each other. So come on Mike, let us be together. Look I even setup a facebook page. Can't you see? Gotta stop being so selfish all the time.

Man...