Pink Sandwich Novels & Stories

It seemed that, not only was Marc put off by my eating habits, the staff had equal emotions. “I fail to see what’s so disgusting about a sandwich made with banana, peanut butter, jelly, and rye bread,” I said with false offense. “You shouldn’t mock it until you try it.” “Would you like to fix it yourself?” Luis asked with a hopeful expression. “I wouldn’t dream of invading your kitchen in such a way,” I said sweetly as I added grapefruit juice to my order. I disguised my amusement as best as I could as I watched my lover and his staff visibly shudder at the combination being requested and announced that I’d be waiting on the porch.

"No Ms. Francis, I got strict orders to take no turn offs, only straight to your apartment," I sighed and pouted my mouth, what am I, a twelve year old? "Ok, well I'm hungry, go to the nearest Popeye’s, take the drive-through.” Henry was a slower driver than Patrick, what should have taken him fifteen minutes, took him twenty-five, he was a cautious driver, I guess I’ll just have to respect that. "Hello, good day, can I get a chicken sandwich, a three-piece combo, with macaroni and cheese, a large grape soda, and a mud cake, please"

I’d brought a small stack of financial reports on Boyd’s holdings and transactions from the last couple years before he sold out, but I knew they were probably a dead end. “Hell, you know those two couldn’t have had kids.” “Didn’t stop them from trying.” I tried my best to ignore the snickering. “Here you go, hon.” Betty slid a wax paper bundle and a spoon over the counter to me. You don’t get a plate at the Lunch Box, just a shiny white bun with ketchup, mustard, and pickle stuffed to overflowing with loose ground beef. Maid-Rite lays claim to these sandwiches, and will serve a pretty good one in almost any other town in Iowa, but I haven’t ever had a better one than right here. Like most s

"Is this lunch?" "Whenever you wanna eat it." He shrugs. "It's just a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with some chips and cookies." "What kind of peanut butter and jelly?" "Crunchy peanut butter, strawberry jelly on white." "And the chips?" "Funyuns. I put a breath mint in there too, because I know you're self-conscious about it." I'm feeling lucky to know he's remembered all of this about me. For some reason I need to know he remembers the rest. "What about the cookies?"

“At least someone around here has manners.” Stabbing a broccoli with her fork, she pointed towards Grayson greasy meal. “What the fuck is that?” “This is quadrupled stacked bacon, fried egg, melted cheese, and sausage sandwich with toasted bread.” He gently patted the top of his sandwich with a grin. “A work of art. A gift from the gods.” “You should add some spinach on that.”

She called out, "How come you stay with me and then I don't get to watch?" "I didn't know you wanted to watch." "I do." "Maybe next time. What would you like for lunch?" "Challah" "Not today. Second choice?" "Ham and cheese on rye bread with spicy mustard and a great pickle." "My mother would plotz!" "Plotz?" "Fall over dead, or at least fall over." "Why?" "Jews aren't supposed to eat pork or meat and dairy in the same meal." "I could have the pickle?" "Ok. A pickle and rye bread sandwich, coming up! You still want the mustard?"

peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with way too much jelly and cut into dinosaur shapes. "This is the best restaurant ever," Liam declares, taking a massive bite of his brontosaurus sandwich. "Five stars!" "What makes it five stars?" Knoxx asks, settling into the fort with his own dinosaur sandwich. "No vegetables. And the waiters are fun." Liam grins at us with grape jelly on his chin. After lunch, we pile into Knoxx's car with no destination in mind. Liam gets to be the navigator, which leads us to a pet store where we spend an hour watching puppies play and debating the merits of goldfish versus hermit crabs as potential pets.

Charlene and Renew settled onto a worn park bench, their next move weighing heavily on their minds. With a deep sigh, Charlene pulled out her lunch, stomach grumbling. Grandma had packed her favorite—turkey and cheese with mayo, sweet pickles, sliced tomatoes, a sprinkle of salt, pepper, oregano, and a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil on a soft roll. A classic Lay’s bag sat beside it. She grinned, popping a few chips into her sandwich for that perfect salty crunch.

“So I got turkey, PB&J, and ham. Condiments are all on the side.” “I'm a PB&J kind of girl, but turkey is a good second,” I said choosing one of the plastic wrapped sandwiches. “This looks wonderful. Thank you.” “You are very welcome. I guess that means more ham and cheese sandwiches for me,” he replied with a grin. He picked a ham sandwich up and immediately squirted four packets of mustard onto the bread. I raised my eyebrows and gave the sandwich a sidewise look. It was a lot of mustard. He shrugged. “What? I like mustard.”

"This isn't a sandwich. It's... it's a disaster." Sitting opposite him with a lazy expression, Pascha just raised an eyebrow. "It's a sandwich, Maximus." Max shook his head, pointing to the messy piece of bread on his plate. "No, Daddy. Mommy never made sandwiches like this." Pascha let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair. "Max, it's bread, it has filling, and it's edible. It's called a sandwich." Max pursed his lips, looking very dissatisfied. "Mommy always cuts it neatly. Mommy always makes sure the cheese and jam are even. Mommy doesn't make sandwiches with cheese that are almost falling out like this!"