The Man Who Was in Love with His Sandwich (Alternatively: The Owner Who Would Have None of This)

“I love you,” he mumbled to his sandwich. He leaned in slowly, looking as one would if they were preparing for a kiss. He took a careful bite as not to hurt his newly beloved.

He refused to admit he had a problem, for if he did, he would find himself alone. He had found the comfort of sustenance to be more supportive than that of other human beings. He realized falling in love three times a day with, say, a gorgeous panini or maybe a picturesque plate of pasta, was so much more fulfilling than the care and compassion of a significant other. Why hold hands in the park when you could hold a slice of pizza that is the perfect combination of doughy and crisp? Why kiss someone’s cheek when you could chew and swallow safe-sized bites of a delicious piece of chicken?

His mother told him she knew someone he should see. This offering was the result of him bringing his infamous sweet potato pie to Thanksgiving dinner and placing the bowl on the seat next to him rather than in the center of the table. His sister had cut off communication with him after that; he was now her favorite party story.

He whispered sweet nothing's to the lettuce as he traced the turkey with his tongue. This is love, he told himself. This is love and no one can tell me otherwise. "Sir?" The sandwich man looked up to find the deli owner towering above him.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're bothering some of our other customers." The owner gestured back to the slack jawed couple in the corner before returning his gaze to give Sandwich Man a once over. "Please take your meal elsewhere." Sandwich Man smirked coyly.

"I see what you mean." He took his beloved home.

The First Person to Meet Prince in Heaven

Lucas didn’t know what to expect when he died. Honestly, everything from the second his heart stopped beating on was just uncharted territory. It wasn’t like Lucas was scared, either; he was more frustrated that no one had found a way to the afterlife and back yet with a million dollar self help guide for assimilating to this new way of life. (It’s worth noting that Lucas doubted his story would be anything like those kids who are dead for maybe two minutes before being resuscitated and preaching the validity of God. Lucas was dead-dead and pissed off.) Nonetheless, Lucas managed to keep his expectation low as he entered the gates of Heaven.

“Thank God,” Lucas mumbled.

“You’re welcome,” the wind rumbled. Lucas looked around, then remembered his current situation and calmed down instantly.

Fortunately for Lucas, Heaven had received complaints from its tenants over the years and had recently set up a map stand just past the gate entrance. Just as Lucas opened his map to decide on where to go first, the gates- which has closed behind him- reopened with a dramatic cloud of smoke. Suddenly, approaching Lucas at a really suave sauntering pace, was the legendary singer, Prince. As previously stated, Lucas had very low expectations for the afterlife, so meeting Prince in the first ten minutes on his first day in Heaven was such a pleasant surprise.

“Hey,” Lucas said, flicking his chin casually towards the icon.

“‘Sup,” replied Prince before he took his Heaven Map™ and promptly walked east. After debating for a total of ten seconds (or, in Prince’s case, five and a half swagger steps), Lucas called out, “Have a nice day!” Lucas hoped that wasn't disrespectful to say to someone on their first day in Heaven. Lucas would have loved for Prince to say that to him today.

Prince held up a hand without turning around.

The Lady with the Vendetta

She thumbs the foot anxiously. She taps the pavement in front of the bus stop bench, her short legs barely allowing her feet to touch the ground. She is not a child; she is a grown woman. And she is very, very angry. It’s been twelve years since “The Incident”, but she has never quite recovered. There are violations that one does not just forget, and those that took place during “The Incident” are among them.

She has waited long enough silently, scouting out her target from a distance. Today is the day her vengeance will come to light. She sits patiently on the bench; she checks her watch; she moves in. She rises quickly and moves without a sound. She slips around the bus arch and away from the street towards the park. Now is the time to act. Her target comes into sight, the awful vermin. She is not scared; this is the moment she has been training for.

The squirrel has come to this park at exactly this time every year for twelve years. She has a spreadsheet; it’s a fact. She caught his comrade years ago and still holds onto its leg as a keepsake. She lightly strokes the squirrel foot for adrenaline in the way some may stroke a rabbit’s foot for luck. Her beady eyes narrow on the creature as it scampers towards the large oak on the right side of the park; she knew it would do that. The trap is in place, set up the night before and guarded through the ungodly hours of the morning. She is prepared for any outcome; this squirrel will know true justice today.

The dumb thing falls right into the net. Its feet are swept up to the sky and the complex system somehow winds a rope around the animal’s neck. The tiny woman is basking in success until she feels the cold snap of handcuffs. You cannot asphyxiate a squirrel in the state of Nevada.