Sandwich

A layered salad between 2 or more pieces of bread. And that you think you have a choice about, but in actuality, you don’t

The only choice you have is to choose the type of salad, liquid, semi-liquid, and a piece of yeast or soda-raised flour in over 180 degrees Celsius in a confined space.

What do you do? You just assemble it the way you want to experience it. If you don’t like the taste or so-called “enhance” the taste, you simply dip it into some other tangy, chilli, sweet sauce to fulfil its taste profile. It is as good as criticising the cook to their face, or if you are the one who made it, it’s just disguising the mistake with some coating and not acknowledging it like a fully functional human.

You shove sandwich into your mouth with the other hand extended towards the liquid you want to drink immediately to wash away the unease of dryness. What kind of self-inflicted torture is that? Just imagine the half-chewed food is gulped like a cow, and you don’t even have an evolutionary advantage a cow has — regurgitation. Also, there is no tiger to hunt you down, then why the rush?

Also, there is no civilised way of eating a sandwich to this day unless you want to take it apart and eat while cursing yourself that you paid so much for these ingredients if you are at a food joint.

Triangles, squares of fake choices loom upon you, and what do you do? You just devour it.

Ice cream sandwich is at least better in this regard. There is the least amount of fake customisable scope, and you are bound by nature to eat it or not.