It looked so good: the way the tomato was all hanging out, the lettuce was per fectly placed, a slice of ham with a bit of tomato sauce, a piece of chicken on the ham, the tomato sauce's dripping lavishly. Looking at this marvellous invention winking at me to obliterate it with all I have, it's inviting me to eat it, winking at me actually. Taking a bite of the exquisite sandwich, I chewed slowly, to savour the flavour.
I chewed. It was most definitely there
I chewed again, slower this time. It was there.
I chewed, thinking it was my imagination. It's a kind of taste hologram.
I chewed, it was without doubt there! Shit! I spit out the bread and all the s tuff. Goddammit! Where did this shit come from? What the this stuff isn't in our house? I started to panic. W hat had I just eaten? Surely someone would have thought to clean the knife properly before putting it back i n the drawer? Why did this happen to me today of all days? I'm ravenous here! Why'd I have to be cursed so?
The previously magnificent sandwich was now in the bin, everyone was safe from the vile nastiness of the, now comparable to monkey spit, abomination.
I regained my composure, spat out the rest of the putrid taste and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. After brushing I knew that I had to find it. In the kitchen I smelled the butte r knife. I coughed. The smell attacked my nose like chlorine. I had to find it. There were brown marks on th e butter. Someone had used the shit less than an hour ago. It was here, but where did it come from? I didn't get it? So who did?
My heart was racing now. I could feel the beats in my eyebrows. My hand was on a cupboard, slowly opening it. Looking inside I saw the bottle. The brown stuff filling it. Why was it ther e? Why am I the only one who notices how it smells, how it looks and how it sometimes flows? How it tastes? How it has made its main ingredient somehow lesser of a being?
Goddammit! Peanut butter, I hate that stuff.
Columns by OricXe