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Edward Sandwichhands

Posted by on March 19, 2008

I was walking home from the bus stop last night feeling, I thought, colder than I have ever felt. As I strode up 16th Street, certain I was about to lose some fingers, I passed Ike’s darkened little shop and my chilblained brain thought, it’s ok. If I lose my hands to frostbite, Ike will help me.

What did I mean by that, I wondered when warmer? This was all I could come up with:

Edward Sandwichhands


Where does snow come from?


Once there was a famous inventor named Ike. Left to his own devices in his lonely shop on 16th, Ike created many things. One of these was a man. Sadly, Ike closed for the day before he could finish creating the man’s hands, because he closes early most weeknights no matter how hungry you are. He called the man Edward, and instead of human hands, he gave him sandwiches.

After Ike left, Edward was discovered by a resident of the town, who took pity on him and brought him to live in his typically gay Castro residence.

At first the neighborhood feared Edward. His hands were made of carbs, which could be dangerous to the physically fit residents of the Castro. However, they soon learned that Edward was gentle and shy, never attempting to force his carbs on those who did not want them. After a little while, his neighbors began to make use of his wonderful sandwich hands, nibbling them here and there as a snack in between meals, or taking large bites out of them when they had forgotten to bring lunch, or had had a difficult workout at Gold’s and were super hungry.

All of this snacking took its toll. Before long, Edward’s hands had been devoured completely! Still, the neighbors looked at him hungrily, wondering if his elbows or knees might be made of delicious sandwich. Fearing for his life, Edward fled to the only place he felt safe: Ike’s Sandwich Shop on 16th Street.


But what happened to him?


The next morning, Ike returned to his shop. His creature was pitifully pleased to see him. “Now you can give me some real hands!” he cried. But Ike smiled and gently shook his head.

“Vegan meatball sub,” he whispered, holding up bread. “Vegan meatball sub.”

And now when white flakes fall from the sky, all the Castro residents know that some lucky neighbor is snacking on Edward’s sandwich hands, and the crumbs are floating down like a benediction from sandwich heaven.

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