Hanging over the deli counter at my local Albertson’s is a titanic hoagie – just the thing when you have four hundred perfectly identical palates to satisfy. It rests on a wood cutting board and is intricately garnished, presumably to entice shoppers into throwing down the relatively large sum of scratch commanded by such a magnificent sandwich.
Holy shit! It’s got cucumber and pickles! And wouldja lookit the size of those pepperoncinis!? I heard Jenna Jameson choked on one like that once!
Something about the display nagged me, though. I took a closer look at the sandwich and commented to the woman behind the counter that it would be far more appealing if it wasn’t so obviously made of plastic.
“It’s actually real,” she replied flatly, “It’s just been there a really long time.”
I suppose I should have noted the marked lack of condiments sooner. Having an off day, I guess.
I finished my shopping thinking about petrified pepperoncinis and ossified olives and loaves of bread resembling lacquered soapstone. By the time I was standing in line to checkout, I had arrived at several firm resolutions:
♠ It is better to claim your food props are plastic than admit they’ve merely become plastic over time.
♠ The fact your deli meat doesn’t change color after being left unrefrigerated for months is not a viable selling point.
♠ A sandwich is, at most, a two-serving entrée. Just because you make it phallic and call it a submarine doesn’t mean you can keep adding ingredients until it feeds an entire military branch.
♠ The guy who invented the six foot hero should be forced into a deathmatch cage fight with the jerk that came up with the square pizza.
♠ I need to find a new deli.