Remember when you were a child? Neither does your absentee father! Ha ha! Wait, no, that was uncalled for. My dad left, too. He joined the circus to “make for hump” with the bearded lady and never came back. We both have trauma. Let’s start over.
Remember when you were a child? Neither does…I mean…yes. As a kid, lunch was one of the most important times during the school day. It was the longest recess, the best time to socialize and a chance to refuel your sugar high with Twinkies and delicious Sloppy Joes or whatever. Kids still eat that shit, right?
For all the benefits of lunch, there was a distinct and very real downfall that every child dreaded – a shame lunch. In the same way name brand shoes are a symbol of legitimacy as a human, and having an X Box puts you a few rungs higher up the social hierarchy than having a Wii, having a good lunch is necessary and having a shame lunch is devastating. You will become the subject of intense mockery for upwards of 30 minutes if your lunch isn’t cool and nothing stands out more than a shitty sandwich. So with no further ado, here’s every sandwich that probably to this day causes you a brief shiver of regret, even if the damn things are delicious and who cares what other people think.
Here’s a bizarre truism. Go to a catered event that serves sandwiches and if egg salad is an option, you can guarantee that’s the sandwich that will run out first. Adults love egg salad. Give egg salad to a kid in a cafeteria and everyone else recoils like it’s the clogged colon torn straight from the belly of a bear slapped on two pieces of Wonderbread.
Egg salad has a tendency to stink. It stinks like egg. To a kid at school if your sandwich stinks like egg then you stink like egg and it’s only a short jog down hilarious insult lane for the nearest bully to start calling you Egg Shit Billy. No kid wants to be Egg Shit Billy, especially if his name isn’t even Billy.
Like egg, tuna is a smelly food item. Unlike egg, we carry our hatred of tuna into adulthood. Which isn’t to say people don’t like tuna, everyone loves tuna. It’s good for you, it’s popular, it’s sometimes mixed with dolphins, what’s not to love? But the idea of something stinking like fish is so anathema that we use it as a fierce insult to sling at women and, occasionally, dock workers. No one wants to smell like fish. If you smell like fish it means you’re rancid in some way. Or a dock worker. Rancid stevedore.
The child who pulls out a tuna sandwich my as well be pulling put a sanitary napkin if there are other kids around because it’s all downhill from here.
If tuna is rancid, salmon is Cthlhu’s sweaty poop chute. Everything wrong with tuna is twice as wrong with salmon. It smells a little worse, it looks a little worse and, for whatever reason, they can it with bones inside. You ever eat salmon salad and find that grody little round bone inside, like some kind of a weird fish hip joint? Fish don’t have hips, where did that little round bone come from? It’s ridiculous.
Good lord, meat from a can. Historically speaking, meat from a can saved the US during the Second World War or something like that, or maybe it just saved the lives of Hawaiians, it’s hard to say. Point is, meat in a can is made from salt, water and meat sloughed from the heads and scrotums of pigs and chickens. Do you even know where to look for a chicken scrotum? You don’t want to.
In a curious twist of logic, bologna is a meat children find enjoyable, despite the fact it’s basically just Spam that’s not in a can. However, in an effort to somehow make bologna even cheaper, the crooked meat industry doles out logs of things like pimento loaf and macaroni & cheese loaf and, I dunno, pickle loaf. That’s a thing I think.
Each and every one of these dreadful loaves is worse than every other loaf, they’re scrotum wrapped around bits of food that weren’t good enough to be included in real meals elsewhere, do you want that? Neither does a child.
Cheese is a curious product. There are any number of delicious, well made and exotic cheese that come from every corner of the globe. And then there’s processed cheese that comes individually wrapped and is to real cheese what a Kardashian is to talent. Mixed with ham or turkey breast or something you can slip one of these sad cheese shit tickets past a mildly dulled palate, but on its own, on that cardboard bread, maybe with a swipe of Miracle Whip, it’s basically telling every child in the cafeteria that your parents don’t like you, never liked you, and have no plans to start liking you in the foreseeable future.
Once, a long time ago, peanut butter was a badge of honor. Children ate it proudly, smearing it around their greasy little mugs without a care. Parents bought it joyfully and fed it to their offspring and it was a glorious time or prosperity and love and man communed with the animals. Good times. For a while.
Then one day little Johnny Anaphylaxis came to school and everyone had a collective panic shit because Johnny Anaphylaxis was so special so they banned peanuts and nuts in general from every school across the land, despite the prevalence of medical evidence that indicates about 150 people a year die from food allergies, and seafood allergies are twice as common as nut allergies. Bees and lightning kill as many people per year as food allergies. Not even nuts, but food in general. In fact, some health officials believe nut allergies are more a psychogenic condition than a real, physical issue. Which means they’re not caused by actual, real world physical things. Like nuts.
The nut is a pariah. Poor bastard.