Duke's Delly, a quick and efficient eatery located in an industrial park, is abuzz. The young woman behind the register greets the lined up customers, one by one, as they place their humble, yet delicious, orders. Bacon egg and cheese on wheat. Breakfast burrito. Steak hoagie with extra tomatoes. Two large coffees. The orders poured in, almost ceaselessly, as the other woman behind the counter worked her magic at a flat top grill and the sandwich prep table, taking pride in every single morsel that was to be had by the guests.

Eventually a young man approached the cashier, and after looking at the menu for some time, settled on the number two from Duke's Delly. The cashier rang up the order, the young man paid, and the cook began her work. She pulled out the hoagie roll, almost opening it with a flourish as it came out of the plastic bag it was occupying along with it's hoagie roll kin. A quit smear of mayonnaise on one half, a squirt of brown mustard on the other, then two slices of American cheese atop the bottom half. Slices of delicious honey baked ham are added next, then lettuce, tomato, and onion.

A ham sandwich is prepared.

The sandwich is then tightly wrapped in paper, and roughly three inches of tape keep it all snug and bundled. It travels from the sandwich prep table, to the cashier, and into the hands of the young man. He exits Duke's Delly, content with his lunch choice. He places the sandwich on the roof of his car, but stops as a tone is heard from his front right pocket. He pulls his phone out and looks. His eyes go wide, as though the urgency of the matter really necessitated a phone call, but some people are dumb shits like that. He slides the phone back into his pocket, jumps into his car, closes the door, and speeds off, leaving his lunch atop the vehicle.

The young man drives for five minutes before the ham sandwich rolls off of the car, and conveniently, into the bed of a pickup truck hauling tree branches. The truck continues on it's path, the sandwich quaintly nested in some still green branches, when it eventually hits a pothole, jarring the entire branch and causing it to fall from the truck to the street.

Frustrated, the driver behind the truck has to hit the brakes lest they hit the large branch. Playing the role of Good Samaritan, the driver exits their vehicle and moves the branch out of the street and onto the sidewalk. A passerby, struck by the shape of the branch, picks it up and begins to carry it, none the wiser they're also toting a ham sandwich. As the pedestrian walks, the sandwich finally comes loose from the branch and falls, landing squarely into an open backpack, the owner of which zips it up and puts it into their vehicle.

The backpack owner drives to a small regional airport, and grabbing their backpack, heads to a small craft to enjoy a fine day of aviation. The plane's propeller begins rotating and in short order the craft takes off, and once at a stable height, the pilot opens their backpack. On seeing the ham sandwich, they're immediately baffled by the sight of it, and not knowing what it was, they lobbed it out of a small window from the cockpit.

Johnny Bacchus was laying down, taking a nap at a local hammock park that he drove to in his 1983 Saab 900. Think a trampoline park only hammocks. It was a lovely day, so he occupied a hammock outside on the patio. As he laid, the ham sandwich, which had originated at Duke's Delly and went on a magical journey, landed on his chest.

An XWF referee, assuming intent, begins to count the pinfall.

1...

2...

Opening his eyes, awake from his nap, Johnny sees the sandwich sitting on his chest.  With a curious expression, he picks it up off of him WHICH I GUESS IS A KICKOUT IN A SENSE before looking over at the referee.

“Is, uh, this yours?  Or do you want it?  I don’t eat pig.”

Gaining no further information, he shrugs and puts the sandwich on the ground before walking away.

The ref shrugs and eats the damn sandwich.

 - Fin