I recently heard some news that hit me like a sucker punch to the groin:
Subway has discontinued the use of Subway Stamps.
With the passage of this decree, America’s once bright and shining future has been replaced with a grim landscape of lava pits and horse carcasses. Literally, everything that Martin Luther King Jr. fought and died for has now been crushed beneath the oppressive leaden buns of Subway’s toasted subs.
Why would Subway do such a thing? Were they losing too much money on the 6″ Sub giveaways? How much could those things cost, 19 cents a pop? Was it too much of an administrative nightmare for Subway clerks to accept filled-out stamp cards instead of US currency? They seem to be able to neatly wrap up my sandwich with relative efficiency, they can’t handle this?!
This is particularly sad for me because I was hoping to present the gift of filled-out Subway cards to my friends Karl and Maren at their wedding. There is truly nothing so romantic as eating fresh. Now I’ll have to go with my backup plan, the collectors edition DVD of Dunston Checks In, which may likely precipitate a hasty divorce. Fricking Subway…
At this point, given my shock over these developments, I cannot be held responsible for my actions. I may well be forced to defecate onto a slice of Wonder bread and savor it as a delicacy. In my confusion, I may consume an entire deck of Skip-Bo cards (with ketchup). Quite honestly, I don’t know what the hell is going to happen, but I suspect that it won’t be pretty. When it all goes down, and you’re reading the horrible details of my torturous demise in the paper on Monday, I want all of you to go to Subway and order a 12″ meatball sub on parmesean oregano bread. I want you to take that sandwich and feed it to an owl. When the owl has finished eating it, you must then drown it. After a brief moment of silence, return to Subway and heave its bloated body at the first employee you see.
And somewhere up in heaven, Dr. King will be smiling.