Anybody but Me (Part 1 in a possible series)

After many successful/unread pieces available in my repertoire, I am beginning to feel a bit self-centered. The dominant personality discussed in my literature always seems to be me. I am the snobbish critic, the swashbuckling prince, the seductive mistress or whatever else costume I care to dress. I never build up or mention characters such as Steve, Waverly Lane or Lance the Viking. Although I am convinced that my adventures are noteworthy, I fear developing a reputation as an egotistical writer hogging all of the attention.

To prevent the impression of the Earth orbiting around me, from this word forward, I will shed my narcissistic ways and steer away from writing about the nonsense that circles around in my head. Instead I will develop other individuals that engulf integral parts of my work so that there’s less “I” and more “he, she and plants.” Guys wearing caps, females in sundresses and flamboyant foliage will converse about hot topic issues like political campaigns, religious beliefs and the decline in clowns. I mean, earlier today I had an interaction with a notorious Subway sandwich employee sporting a badge with Eric on it. Let me narrate a tale about the epic battle of wits we shared.

From an end of the line position, I deducted that his sporadic facial hair put him at the age of a high school student and that his hair net imprisoned a wild amount of blonde locks. Most of his uniform was shielded by a black baggy cloak which was perfect for concealing a spellbook or orb. As a whole, he gave off an aura of confidence as I observed him handling meat and laying down cheese squares.

Alright, now that I have unraveled enough traits of this evil young man to construct a portrait, let me carry on with how the altercation took place. While I was patiently waiting on line, my mind hosted a tournament between eligible deli meats. As Eric put on a fresh pair of magic (mostly plastic) gloves, he inquired “What would you like Sir?”

His voice awakened me from internal sandwich combat. With a thrilling slay of Turkey, Ham won the trophy and the heart of the king so to the best of my knowledge, I responded “Ham please.”

That is when things started to go awry and Eric the Sorcerer began his mind play. He spun around to make my order but it appeared that the meat that he was spreading on my bread was chicken. In a fit of confusion, my brain started questioning me with “Did I order chicken by mistake? Did he mishear hen rather than ham? Maybe my subconscious secretly prefers poultry?”

It took a few moments, but I regrouped and realized that honey glazed pig meat was what I craved. This was just a fowl ploy by Eric to get me to eat what he commanded. After recognizing his attempt at wizardry, I chuckled about how he was no match against my superior willpower. I began reminiscing about how once a colleague tried to sell me the Brooklyn Bridge. I mean sure, he was offering it at quite a discount, but c’mon, I have no space for a bridge in my apartment.

In the meantime, Eric had shifted to the toppings section and was eager to proceed. That is why I was caught off guard when he questioned “Would you like lettuce on your chicken sandwich?”

Acting on instinct alone, I replied “Yes.” Shortly after my induced trance faded, I realized that evil was victorious. I had agreed to a vegetable on a sandwich I did not desire. As the shredded lettuce fell like confetti onto my sub, it symbolized a checkmate.

“You have won this fight Eric the Sorcerer” I mumbled in disgust as I turned around shaking my fist in anger. “I will choke down this chicken sandwich, but please be well aware, this war is far from over.”