Like a Sock
“My other garden hose is a tube sock” Paul said to the wall. Out of boredom he tweeted at Lan Tic’s Bar and Grill. For his correct answer about the mating habits of jellyfish he won a free meal.
Paul drove down the Pacific Coast Highway. He sat down at the restaurant. The waiter brought him a menu. Without even looking Paul ordered a Grilled Tofu Sandwich.
The Grilled Tofu Sandwich was an old-timer sandwich. Nobody wanted it. Idealistic in its youth, it now desperately clung to its guns and religion. Due to its lack of arms, it mostly clung to religion. At this point in its pathetic soggy life the Grilled Tofu Sandwich wished for death.
One look at the Grilled Tofu Sandwich appalled Paul. There wasn’t even any avocado. What sort of restaurant was this? A place that sold knock-off sandwiches not fit for a dumpster. Paul shouted:
“No way Jose”
Jose cried tears of joy. Humans rarely knew the names of sandwiches. Overcome with joy, the sandwich communicated telepathically with Paul
“For your correct guess at my name I grant you one wish. Choose wisely”
“Well I always wanted to get my dick sucked by a sandwich.”
beach sloth is the dad of the alt lit scene. he writes reviews herehttp://beachsloth.blogspot.com and has also been published in screaming seahorse, thought catalog, banango lit and up literature. what a cuddly sloth.