Tonight I decided that, since my stomach was still not quite at 100% since this bout with what I can only assume was a stomach flu, I would go to the Subway Sandwich shop here by my home.Â Not a long drive and the fresh air… well… as fresh as Bakersfield can grant, would do me some good.
Upon entering and subsequently waiting in line behind the woman who probably single handedly inspired Carol from a slightly demonic version Brady Bunch, whose six children might have been models forÂ “Chucky” and whose ability to control them was slightly akin to Captain Binghamton’s ability to control Lt. MchaleÂ (Yes… I know most of these analogies are lost on anyone younger than thirty…)Â Her and her kin were waiting for their food to be made when “IT” happened.Â During one of the critical moments of public sandwich-making when children are present, happened.Â The sandwich guy’s Mayo jar ran out.
Anyone who has been in a Subway when this happens, knows what that means.Â Yes… the Mayo jar made a rather loud sputtering sound.
It was at this time that one of the kids happily announced to no one in specific and everyone in general that… “The sandwich guy farted!”
This had the effect of turning the already noisy group of children into a now laughing group of children sounding something slightly similar to what Pee Wee’s playhouse might sound like on laughing gas… oh… never mind.
To make matters worse, the now very self-conscious sandwich guy made the sound three more times… in the ever-efficient effort to get every last drop of the mayo out of the jar.Â This, in turn, evoked a chorus of laughs and giggles… now not just from the children, but also from the few other adults that were there as well.
Yes… even me,Â mister stoic… the gruff, 40 something former Marine, started to smile at this point.Â For me, however, I think I was smiling more at the way the sandwich guy was looking at the children.Â With that fake smile, hiding the sudden desire to start practicing Hannibal Lecter’s craft in the kitchen, beginning with the little starting lineup of the might munchkin football league that he had in his dining room.Â All he was missing was the quiet time, fava beans and nice Chianti.
It was about this time that he, the sandwich guy, announced that he had to go get more Mayo, then went to the back.Â Either to actually GET mayo, or to contemplate his new career as a serial murderer and cannibal.Â Â This I do not know, as the sandwich gal who was working with him took over and finished making the sandwiches for them and then, myself.
The woman and her small restaurant assault team went off valiantly to ransack the Domino’s pizza next door.
I saw no further sign of the sandwich guy that night… I hope the rest of his evening went better, and that it did not end with him having his partner for dinner with beans and wine.
Note to the reader… some of the events may have been embelished for the entertainment of the reader.