Here is my entry for the August 2020 Furious Fiction monthly competition, as run by the Australian Writers’ Centre. The requirements for the story, apart from being within 500 words, are below.
- Your story must contain HUMOUR/COMEDY.
- Your story must include the following five words: DIZZY, EXOTIC, LUMPY, TINY, TWISTED.
- Your story must include a sandwich.
Below is my entry (although this is the slightly-longer-than-500-words version before I trimmed it a bit for submission). Enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think…
Oxolob threw back the hood of his pink-and-purple checkered robe and continued gazing at the Holy Sandwich. The relic was in pristine condition within an energy field that Oxolob’s primitive people had yet to understand.
“Oxolob, you have gazed in wonder at the Holy Sandwich for long enough. It is my turn now. Move aside so I may observe its satisfying combination of healthy salad options, premium cheese and exotic ham.”
“Alright, Steve, I’m bored of this anyway.”
“Blasphemy, Oxolob! How could you be bored with our sacred duty?”
Steve threw back the hood of his purple-and-pink striped robe and took up the position of Watcher that his partner had vacated.
Suddenly, a bright, all-consuming light engulfed the small room.
“Steve! You broke the Holy Sandwich!”
“No I didn’t, I didn’t touch it!”
Before them appeared a being of such glorious magnificence, that the two acolytes barely had time to gather their wits and arrange themselves into the formal ‘twisted breadstick’ of greeting.
“I am the Sandwich Maker. I am come to offer you a gift in reward for your people’s diligent guardianship of the Holy Sandwich.”
“Oh, Sandwich Maker,” said Steve, “we would be honored to receive any gift that you might bestow upon us in your benevolence.”
“Yeah, just one moment,” said Oxolob. “Before you get to the gift giving, could you maybe tell us why the sandwich has been here all this time and why we are worshipping it?”
“Shush Oxolob, you know not to look a gift-sandwich in the mouth,” said Steve.
“Shush yourself, Steve, I’ve been staring at this thing for years as part of my holy duty, but I don’t know why we do it.”
“What difference does it make, Oxolob? What else would you do with your miserable life? You’re too uncoordinated for sports, your breath stinks so you’re unlikely to attract a mate and your dress-sense will leave you an outcast from the rest of society forever. Really, pink-and-purple checkered robes are so last season.”
Steve pushed his partner acolyte aside and addressed the divine entity directly.
“I wish for knowledge. Please share with me the ability to create such a perfect sandwich at home for my wife, children and pet hamster.”
“I cannot, for you do not yet possess even the technology to create a biscuit with salt-reduced butter,” said the Divine Entity. “Choose again.”
“What about a hammer?”
“No.”
“Cure for the plague?”
“No.”
“A Labradoodle?”
“What’s a Labradoodle?”
“It’s a tiny dog. A cross Labrador and Poodle.”
“No.”
“Enough!“ Oxolob interjected. “So what exactly can you offer your people, who have diligently watched this, admittedly, miraculous sandwich sit here for countless centuries doing nothing?”
“This new pony.”
Another flash of light brought forth a pure white pony, heavenly of spirit and only slightly lumpy.
Steve fell to his knees in supplication. “Thank you, oh Great One. We shall feast upon this divine pony and celebrate your goodness.”
“Um, it’s not for eating,” said the Divine Creature. “Your kids can take turns riding on it.”
“Yep, sure, that’s probably a better idea.”
Before any further discussion could ensue, the being ascended on a beam of pure light, leaving behind the two dumbstruck acolytes and their new pony.
The sandwich remained within its protective energy field and refused to offer the dizzy acolytes any guidance. Ten thousand-year-old sandwiches can only do so much.
