Bacon Sandwiches

Can't pay your bills? Sell sandwiches. Obviously.

Bacon Sandwiches

This bacon sandwich was the only thing I’d been able to make before all the utilities went out. Not that I was even hungry then, just bored, so I’d put it aside. I’d let delicious meats and sauces which would have tantalized and flooded my senses, become a cold, sad, limp, lifeless chore of a snack. 

Nevermind that I was sat in freezing candlelight days before payday, no THIS sandwich was my biggest problem. Clearly. Get a grip. It wasn’t as if it could solve anything to think about something so pointless.

I went for a walk, just for something to do to distract myself. Not twenty feet from my front door, I saw the scruffiest man in the town. Here was a man who knew not the luxuries of shaving or bathing, tattered clothes and a dilapidated backpack holding all the world. Despite it all, the warm cheeky glint in his eye had never once left it since boyhood.

“Hey, can I have that sandwich?” he perked up and pointed at the sandwich I’d taken with me, with a hungry look. I noticed a small gas stove tied to his backpack, clearly a little old but it looked serviceable.

“Does that thing work?” I pointed to the stove.

“Uh huh.”

I had a moment of weird inspiration...

“Come in. If I can borrow that you can have some sandwiches, sure.”

He seemed a little hesitant, confused, but ultimately didn’t care. “Sure, man.”

We got it lit, and I got my s**t together in the kitchen. Hands washed, bacon peeled from the packet, slices cut from an old loaf of bread, digging in to semi frozen butter. I could feel them calling out to me already.

“Alright sweet..hand me that sheet of cardboard and that marker.

He passed them to me, no longer at all curious as he inhaled the sandwich I’d given him. I scribbled quickly:

SANDWICHES AVAILABLE HERE.

“Hm, worth a shot, if I sell enough..alright buddy, if you head out and get some hungry faces, there’s more in it for you!”

Excited enough by this, the scruffy vagrant took the sign and went forth into the street, leaving me to it. It wasn’t long before more faces, admittedly just like his, were at my door. I saw them light up as they got what they’d been directed to, furiously munching and slurping by candlelight, stopping only to swap stories. It was almost heartwarming, but a warm heart wouldn’t be enough.

“Alright fellas; 1,2,3,4,5...£15 then please!”

“What are you talking about?”

“We can stay here right?”

“What? No. Why do you...” Then it clicked. Sinking inside, I took back the sign. “Oh for Gods..where’s the price?”

“Hahaha..”

“Price? We look well off to you mate?”

I guess it serves me right?