You Are What You Eat, If What You Eat Is A Fool

Listen, hot roast beef sandwich, I have some things I want to say to you. You are not a sandwich. If I have to eat you with a knife and fork, you are not a sandwich. If your bread is covered in exorbitant amounts of gravy so that it doesn't even stay in tact and I have a plate of roast beef and mush, sir, a sandwich you do not make. Who wants to eat that much gravy? I could have filled up a swimming pool and let the neighborhood children swim in this gravy, hot roast beef sandwich. You are a lie and a disgrace to the sandwich arts. Whoever named you should be brought up on charges. And, I see your buddy, hot turkey sandwich, over there too. You tell him I said to suck it. You're fucking fraudulent. Whenever Arby's makes more sense than you, you need to rethink what you're doing with yourself. They have a roast beef sandwich there. And guess what? It's fucking hot, when you pick it up with your hands. Bam! Sandwich. I'll wait a second, if you want to get a pen and pad and write these notes down. I would suggest it.

Maybe you could get a legal name change to like B. R. B. Gravy. It's classy, it rhymes, it explains what you are, I don't think you're gonna do much better. Maybe you could change your name to Zac. You're kind of like the Zac of sandwiches. I've never met or heard of a Zac I thought was cool. I don't think it exists. You need both a c and k/or h at the end of Zack or it throws a monkey wrench into the whole works of the Zack personality. It's like if I took away your gravy. Then, you would be a goddamned sandwich! What a preposterous scenario! Jackass. And, don't text me anymore. It's getting tiresome. Alright, we're through here.