Commercial Break: This Thing, This Sandwich

I just mention the food, and you feel the juices in your mouth. It's that good. One bite of this thing, this sandwich, and your life will never be the same. You'll finish it up and immediately run out for a brand new haircut. You'll be driving a Harley by the end of the month. That's how good this sandwich is. You will wake up with piercings.

It starts with the lettuce, and right off the bat, I know what you're thinking. There's nothing hardcore about lettuce, and maybe that was true before the invention of the fryalator, but nowadays, hold on to your socks, Brock. This lettuce is going to blow your mind. Your surgeon will find salad in your arteries. That's the kind of lettuce we're dealing with, and hell no, it doesn't stop there. Then there's the bacon, and now I know what you're thinking, but you know me, so shut up with your doubts. It's good bacon.

Then, the cold cuts. Oh, the cold cuts. Have you ever had ham? Of course you have. Have you ever had ham deep fried in boiling whipped cream? Didn't think so. No one has, no one but me, but you will has too once you eat this. It's fantastic. I really can't recommend it enough. And do you seriously think I'd leave you hanging with only one cold cut? No. No, you do not. There are types of cheese that I've never even heard of outside the context of this sandwich, in this sandwich. And don't be stupid; you know they're fried too. I'm not even sure what they're fried in; there's this vat of unidentifiable shit that I found under the sink one time, it's pinkish green, and it smells like nothing you've ever smelled in your life, but goddamn if it don't do something to this cheese that makes it a wet dream for your salivary gland. Or glands, I'm no doctor. Anyway, lots of cheese. And then more meats. Obviously; I take care of you. The first meat that appears below this mountain of congealed bovine secretions is salami, and I know what you're thinking, but you know what I'm thinking too so you know that's the best damned salami that anyone's ever tasted. I cover it in ham, and I know that there's already ham, but never before have you eaten a salami-pouch made of ham. It's fantastic. Then I killed my landlord, and he's under the salami. He too is deep fried, though that one was really out of necessity. I bet you've never had crunchy landlord before. I have. I have been to the top of crunchy landlord mountain, and I proclaim unto ye all that it is tasty. Tasty like pastry. Except fattier.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, prison.

Psych.

Under the landlord is corn. This isn't any ordinary corn, though. It's beefed corn. You've had corned beef, who hasn't, but you've never even seen beefed corn. It will pass through your stomach into your bloodstream, and you will have all these tiny pieces of corn stuck in your occipital lobe. You will see corn when you dream, it's that freaking good. You think I'm shitting you here? Fuck yourself. My sandwich could kick your sandwich's ass with half it's salami tied behind its landlord.

Then there's bologna, but you don't care, you already want this sandwich. I say it, you taste it. You pay me money, I take that money, make more sandwiches. It's a symbiotic relationship. Me, you, and sandwiches. The way God intended.