Subway Diet-HNT-Apologies

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Yesterday I was short on time, so I decided to grab a bite to eat at subway for lunch. Normally Subway isn’t on my list of places for lunch. Sure, Jared lost weight. But it wasn’t because he ate the frigging subs. He lost the weight because his fat ass walked there and back two times a day after not leaving the couch for months. The thing that pisses me off about Subway is after I eat, I am hungry like twenty minutes later. But, it was close and I had no time.

I walk in and immediately remember the whole “stand in line shuffle as they make your sub” routine. Every time I am at Subway I think back to that Seinfeld episode with the soup Nazi, and the whole routine. I get in line behind this lady that had on polyester that was at least one or two sizes too small. I guess when she was getting ready today she looked in the mirror and thought the rolls overlapping her waist line were attractive. She was placing her order and I was adhering to the whole routine. She ordered something, all I know it had extra everything on it. You know they get irritated at Subway if you start making special requests and they actually have to work. The first step of her sub was complete and it was slid down to the next person to slop on what ever condiments she may desire. I heard her ask if the Mayo was fat free. The pimpled face kid behind the counter stared at her as if to hold back “You should of thought of that years ago”, but instead said yes. She side stepped per the routine to her right and followed her sub.
The polyester winched from the friction of her thighs rubbing together. I was up and the stoner looking kid asked me what I wanted. I told him I wanted the combo and he asked me what kind of bread. I told him I wanted the Italian Garlic kind and he gave me a death stare as he had to leave his post and go to the oven and fetch the Italian Garlic roll.

s he walked towards the oven, his back to me I saw him pick his nose. Yes, it is true. His left pinky inside the greasy plastic film glove he wore inserted deep within his nasal passage.
He returned with the Italian Garlic and started slapping some cheese on it (Not that it mattered at this point, but he didn’t even inquire if I wanted any fucking cheese or if so which kind). “Hey, don’t even try it”, I said to him. “Dude, what’s your deal”, he asked in a voice which reminded me of Butthead from “Beavis and Butthead”. I explained to him that I saw him digging his horn and I wanted him to get a fresh set of plastic film gloves, a fresh Italian Garlic roll and to start over. “No way” he replied. At this point I must have started to speak louder because the whole rhythm and flow of the routine was disrupted. People were turning and looking all confused. “I’m warning you” I told Butthead. He smiled and wiped his pinky all along my cheese and my Italian Garlic sub. The same pinky that moments ago was knuckle deep inside of his face. I lost it (remember the temper) and lurched up towards him, reaching for his neck. The sneeze guard plastic shield thing hit me in the chest. People scrambled as the Manager dude got in between us right as I was going to smash his face into my Italian Garlic sub.
The police were called, the polyester lady had my back, I was warned, the kid was fired, and I missed my meeting and ended up eating a bag of pork rinds for lunch.







This was taken whilst on vacation in California –