Lusty Sandwiches

I try to keep my mind in a perpetual state of hypnotic mezmerism when I'm driving in an attempt to prevent sudden eruptions of road rage as a result of the abundance of churls occupying the freeways . Astonishingly, I am becoming quite skilled at it. I suffer from this anathemic illusion that keeps me terrified and as of late I have been consuming lots of orange juice which seems to produce an effect similiar, in a mild form, to lysergic acid diethylamide.

Outside the Oak Park Bibliothek today, the rain was sweeping down from the sky in soft gales as I ate my turkey sandwich from a bakery just around the corner, and I couldn't help but realize what a remarkable sandwich it was! Turkey breast on wheat bread with lettuce, tomatoes, Swiss cheese, cucumbers, mayonaise and honey mustard. A very basic concoction, yes, but I am a very persnickety sandwich eater and I seek out new places that make delicious sandwiches and frequent them. This was a superior turkey sandwich indeed. I was mildly annoyed with the fact that there was no seating or air conditioning within the establishment but, that forced me to gaze upon the lovely sylph working up a sweat to prepare the sandwich. The preparation of a sandwich can be viscerally and ocularly stimulating, with the exception of atrocity franchises such as Subway or Quizno's. Perhaps it has something to do with the tender slicing of bread without plastic gloves? It is incredibly erotic in conjunction with the presentation of the sandwich. She, wearing a fit, knee-length vulpine biege skirt with a black top revealing her porcelain shoulders and medium length dark tresses sweatily framing the contours of her face, lithesomely handed me the sandwich with a bewitching smile. I felt a rapacious, lupine desire to devour her mouth and reach my hand underneath her skirt, peeling off the layers of tight material that clung her moist, glabrous flesh. Alas, only bosh inertia followed and it was simply like any other transaction made on a daily basis.