I want a really big sandwich. Fresh and crunchy with olive oil and stuff on it. Like a sub sandwich. Something like that. Oh boy.
"Hey, Mr. Happy Puppet Head, let's go get some sandwich from the sandwich shop down the street."
No answer from his room. I go and knock on the door.
"Hey, Mr. Happy Puppet Head, let's get a sandwich. Come on."
"Doing what?" I wait for his response, but there isn't one. "I'll buy a real big one and we can split it if you want."
He opens the door and peeks out. "How about you buy me my own big sandwich?"
I say that sounds fine.
So we walk to the sandwich store down the street. It's some fine day, with the sun and the clouds and all that. Some birds are singing. Real nice. But something's got Mr. Happy Puppet Head down. Or maybe he's just down for no reason. Hard to tell with that guy.
The sandwich guy at the counter asks what kind of sandwiches we want.
"We both want the big sandwich, I want it on wheat and he'll have white."
"I only eat white," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head. "And I want all the meat on my sandwich. No cheese, no lettuce, none of that. Just all the meat. Except mayo. Lots of mayo."
"I'll have turkey."
"We're all out of turkey."
"Oh," I don't know what else to order. There's a woman waiting in line behind me and I get anxious so I can't think of what else I might want. "When do you think you'll have more turkey?"
"We should get more tommorow."
"Oh," I stare hard at the menu. "I'll have the vegetarian, then."
"Pussy," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head. The woman behind us pretends not to have heard.
"I can get whatever kind of sandwich I want."
"Yeah, and you can be a pussy about it, too."
"What do you want on that sandwich, sir?"
"Lettuce, tomato, the yellow cheese... no onions, no olives... a little mustards."
"Mustard isn't plural."
"Mr. Happy Puppet Head, I'm buying you a sandwich. Leave me alone, okay?"
"Yeah, well in the future I'll have all the money and you'll have to beg me to buy you food."
"Well then maybe you can start with buying your own food today."
"You know I don't have any money. Pay the man."
The sandwich man is standing patiently by the cash register with our sandwiches neatly wrapped and in a plastic bag. He asks if we'd like any drinks or chips, and I say no. I turn around and Mr. Happy Puppet Head has his head under the soda machine gulping down on the fruit punch.
the sandwich man says, "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm gonna have to charge you for that." I notice that an older mean-looking guy is standing behind the sandwich man glaring at me.
I nod and pay him for a small drink. We leave the store.
Walking back home. "Thanks for the food," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head. "Once I have all the money, I'll totally buy you sandwiches whenever you want."
We sit on the porch steps and eat our sandwiches. Sometimes the best thing in the world is a good sandwich eaten on the porch on a sunny day with your best friend.