Welcome to The Squeaky Pen

...where life is slow, and ripe with rural treasures

Monday, December 3, 2012

The Many Travels of An Egg Sandwich

I had to run out of town on Monday to do some banking and other errands. I took the dog with me because he's an agreeable passenger in the car and -- frankly -- mighty good company.

We listened to Christmas music on the radio, Harry and I, he perched on the center console, I bopping along in the driver's seat. After the bank we stopped at a convenience store for coffee. The place had one of those heated glass containers in which were little breakfast sandwiches and I bought one, having been smitten while inside with an insatiable urge for egg on an English.

I got back in the car and Harry went on full smell alert. I opened the wrapping and looked at the thing, "thing" being the only way to describe it: flat, smashed scrambled eggs on a limp muffin topped off with a piece of what appeared to be ham, except it was sort of green. I took a small bite and immediately spit it out the window. However Harry, who eats cat box deposits, wanted it. My answer to him was you can't have it, my reasons for saying no spanning so many levels.

Driving home I had other stops to make, so I put the sandwich in my purse rather than leaving it in the car to prevent Harry from getting at it. An hour or so later we returned home and, of course, I forgot about throwing the sandwich away. I tossed my open purse on a chair and didn't think about the green ham and eggs again until later in the afternoon. When I remembered and went to retrieve it, the wrapper was there but the food product was gone. If Harry had eyebrows they would have been raised, brown eyes cut to one side in feigned innocence.

Oh well, I thought. Hope he doesn't get sick.

At bedtime I went through the usual routine: teeth, face, lotion, nightgown. When I fluffed the bedding and climbed aboard there was the nibbled-at sandwich: under my pillow.

From heated glass container to car to purse to dog to bed and finally to trash can. It may not have been edible, but that flat-egg green-ham limp-muffin sandwich certainly was well-traveled. My question is this: how do these places get away with selling food that's isn't even good enough for a dog?

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Loved this short story..... what a HAM !

Dad said...

I'm lying awake wondering why he put it under your pillow.

Kathleen Yasas said...

I wondered myself why it was under the pillow. But then, his toys are often there, so maybe he figured since sandwich wasn't edible it was actually a play thing.

Kathleen Yasas said...

THE sandwich, that is.

About Me

Newspaper columnist; blogger; author of Delta Dead; author of 101 Tip$ From My Depression-Era Parents; author of Australian Fly; editor: ...And I Breathed (author, Jason Garner, former CEO of Global Music at Live Nation), "A History of the Lawrence S. Donaldson Residence"; "The Port Washington Yacht Club: A Centennial Perspective"; "The Northeastern Society of Periodontists: The First Fifty Years"; editor: NESP Bulletin; editor: PWYC Mainsail; past editorial director: The International Journal of Fertility & Women's Medicine; past editor of: Long Island Power & Sail, Respiratory Review; Medical Travelers' Advisory; School Nurse News; Clear Images; Periodontal Clinical Investigations; Community Nurse Forum