The Sandwich: #175

The Sandwich


It appears that I have been pulled through a tear in the fabric of reality, my atoms scattered to the four corners of the universe and reconstituted here in another realm. Well, that was unexpected. Where am I? There is a blinding blue light and I feel so cold. Every surface I touch is covered in frost. There are blurred shadows moving above me and I hear a voice. It is a woman's voice, shrill and whiney and overprivileged. She is complaining.

A man's face then appears over me. He is hideous and the remains of his breakfast are still lodged in his moustache. I blink, trying to focus. He has a name tag on: it says "Mr Wyngarde. Deputy Manager."

"Excuse me, sir," he says. "Would you mind getting out of our freezer cabinet."

"So c-c-c-cold," I say, my teeth chattering. "So very cold."

"I dare say, sir," says Mr Wyngarde. "I imagine that a flimsy giraffe onesie was quite a poor choice for someone wishing to take up residence amongst the frozen poultry in our freezer aisle. Just one reason why you should probably consider relocating."

"F-f-f-freezer aisle?"

"Indeed sir," Mr Wyngarde says patiently. "The other reason you should give serious thought to vacating your present position is that this lady here is trying to do her weekly shop, and you are currently the only thing coming between her and her chances of providing her family with their Sunday lunch this week."

He helped me out of the freezer and very kindly threw a jacket around my shoulders. I was confused, very confused. "Is this..." I began, "is this another dimension?"

"This is the Easysave Megamart in Totnes," said Mr Wyngarde. "But I can see that it's an easy mistake to make."



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