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The sandwich

A lady in a shop asked me if I was Ďok with onioní as she was making my salad sandwich.

ĎYes.í I replied wondering why she didnít check in with all the other things on the bread.

When I got outside I found a park bench, opened the packet and found that the sandwich hadnít been cleanly cut in half. It was surprising to me because I watched her move the knife back and forth a few times with a really serious look on her face. I canít believe she missed it after all those goes.

I pulled it apart- the neat edge of the triangular halves wrecked. I felt slightly angry, then ridiculous because I felt angry.

As I started to eat a seagull appeared at my feet making noises and doing weird moves. Other seagulls then turned up who were quickly chased away by the first seagull. He did that crazy head bobbing thing- as if he had sole rights to the scraps, as if he was in control.

But what that stupid seagull didnít realize was that I was in control.

His disregard for true authority annoyed me and I decided not to give him anything.

I tried to chuck a bit over to the other ones but he raced over and went nuts and took it before they got to it. You should have seen how bezerk he went. I felt embarrassed for him. What a nob.

Not knowing what to do I ate the sandwich really quickly without chewing. None of them got anything. I think at some point I looked at the dominant seagull and tried to call him a dickhead, but it was really hard to speak because my gut was uncomfortable from the bread expanding in my stomach without a single tooth mark on it.

Feeling like something sweet I got up and went back into the shop for a caramel slice even though I was bloated. I never give in.

There was the end bit looking at me.

I asked for a piece- I knew she was going to give it to me. I rehearsed in my head me saying something like: ĎNo not that piece, a good piece.í But I didnít say anything and watched as she put the end bit in a bag for me. I thanked her for it- as if I was happy to receive it.

I walked outside to the bench, ate half, and then gave the rest to the crazy seagull. He didnít even touch it. I didnít understand him. What was with that nutcase sea bird. I decided to leave. Iíd had enough for one day.

I walked home, got into bed with my stomach growling. I lay there wide awake staring at the wobbly fan on the ceiling and wondered what I was going to do for entertainment tomorrow.