Subway… another rant

So, another ranty post that has nothing to do with literature! Did a real fun reading and talk at the Witterings. Even did a Q & A about the new book and it was a right laugh. The usual rabble of Malice readers turned up. Did a few drinking games, did spoonies. After and due to the beers, I was starving. I needed to eat. Fortunately, there was another vegan who said ‘Subway now do a vegan sub’ – that was good enough reason to head to the town.

Now, I don’t visit vast food joints often because I am vegan. So was a bit miffed by the queue. It seemed hundreds deep, of every person you’d want to kill. Like it was a casting for Jeremy Kyle. I saw a crying teenager with mullet, a manwoman with eye patch, prison tattooed pregnant woman with beard,  wolf boy and the mandatory guy in Crocs, wife beater and his kids in camouflage.
I was listening in on a couple of hipsters that looked like they were wearing their Grannies glasses and those stupid fucking skinny jeans with their ass hanging out. They might as well wear a sign ‘I want it in my ass.’  Hipster one said, “Yeah, every time I go there, they say I have to sign in… it’s like, sooo random.” No, it fucking isn’t, I thought. That is exactly the opposite of what random means, I was getting close to wanting to choke the fucker out. When I made it to the counter.

At Subway, you are met with a team of people who appear to be there by court order, because they sure as shit don’t want to be there. I was glad they prepare the food in front of you, as else I’m sure the sandwich would be a high concentration of semen and faeces.
“Sorry for the delay, we’ve had a people mulavanta mumble mumble mahhh.”
Said the server. I had no idea what he said. His eves were as red as a pigeons, where by I concluded he was a chronic masturbator, stoned out off his mind, or both. He had to be 19 or so, with the attempt at growing an ironic beard. Resulting in little ginger, wispy clumps. He also had a tiny mouth so with the beard it looked like a baby orang-utan’s vagina.
“What bread?”
“Oh,” I said, “I want the vegan option.”
“We don’t do a vegan option.”
“Your website says you do.”
“Sssssinnamericaah.” He said.
“Oh. Can you have a sandwich with just the salad in it?”
“The veggie delite?”
“Does that have just salad in it?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“It is your vegan option then isn’t it?”
“……….Yes.”

I hated this primate vagina mouthed prick. I ordered a ‘foot long’ on wholemeal bread. He cut it in half, opened it, than things just ground to a halt. He looked at the guy on the till. The guy on the till looked back at him and, well, fuck all happened. After a while, looking at my naked bread and seeing vagina face and the guy on the till do fuck all, I got a bit pissed off. “You going to do anything with that, or are you willing the sandwich to make itself?”
“Toby has left!” he said.
“Who the fuck is Toby?” I asked.
“He does the fillings.” He said.
“Well… you do it!”
“Well,” looking frightened, he continued, “I’m bread.. I don’t know what to do?”
“How the fuck can you not know what to do?” I said, “It’s a sandwich. Grab some of the shit in front of you, and fill the sandwich!”
“But, but I just do bread!” he said again.
How can anyone not know how to make a sandwich? I’m pretty sure, I’ve never forgotten how to make a sandwich. It isn’t a complex thing. I have been so pissed I couldn’t find my house and I’ve still managed to make a sandwich. I’ve never buttered bread and gone “Argh – WHAT NEXT?”
I looked at the guy on the till, because a big crowd had built up. I’m drunk and I want to eat. I asked him “Can you put the shit in my sandwich?”
“Don’t look at me,” he replied “I’m sauces and till!”
“It’s just fucking salad sandwich.” I shouted, “I’ll talk you through it. Get the salad, and some jalapenos some olives and put it on the fucking bread. That’s it. Your not flying a plane here, your making a sandwich!”
I kid you not. They said “Were not trained for that!”
Subway, it doesn’t take three people to make a fucking sandwich, Three people making three sandwiches yeah, I can see that. Three people to make one sandwich? What the fuck is that about? Three youths, the future gerations of our great country are required to make a sandwich? Has it got that bad? Aside from Monkey cunt mouth, the other mutant motherfucker on the till looked like he’d been bobbing for shit in a chip pan! I bet Isambard Kingdom Brunel could make a fucking sandwich without training. Can you imagine that class. ‘Cut bread, add filling, rub on face, kill yourself.’

So I went behind the counter and made my own sandwich. Shouting “Look, you just put the shit on the shit!” Then, I had to pay for it. I paid to make my own sandwich. I paid… full price, to make my own sandwich. Mother fucker. I didn’t know if I should eat it or beat him to death with it.