This post was supposed to be about that mythical unicorn of the Sandwich World:
It’s a sandwich . . . in a can! And I’m sorry to tell you that one of the flavors is BBQ Chicken.
My peeps, you KNOW ol’ JD would eat a Candwich so you don’t have to, but there’s one problem (apart from the fact that I don’t feel like throwing up today): The Candwich is not available for public consumption.
Because today I am pleased and horrified (plorrified?) to introduce:
Remember how grossed out you were when, after months of nagging your mom, she finally gave in and let you try a Fluffernutter sandwich? Those commercials made it look so good, but the combination of peanut butter and Marshmallow Fluff turned out to be the most heinous flavor duet since diced peppers and corn (AKA: Mexicorn!)
I’m'a give you one more second to enjoy the ignorance of youth, because what you didn’t know then?
You now must acknowledge. There is a Strawberry Fluff. It’s here. It’s real. It’s not backing down.
And it is a key ingredient in the newest sensation of the Sandwich World: The Strandwich.
Now, I don’t have the soft white bread of my childhood, but I do have these stale diet hot dog buns.
Mmmm. What you can’t see from this photo is that the bottom of the bun is all soggy. That’s what makes it so diet-y! (i.e., one bite, and you’re done).
I cautiously open the jar of Strawberry Fluff and see . . .
. . . this.
It smells like Mr. Bubble and looks like hardened Pepto-Bismol. And what is that disturbing residue along the rim?
Maybe it just needs a good stirring . . .
. . . errr
The texture is like nothing I’ve ever encountered on this planet. It could definitely be used as a fixative of some sort. Surely it isn’t edible? But, no, there on the label it says, “Now With More Edible!” Oookay.
Fluff meet bun:
YOU GUYS! You’re not going to make me eat that, are you? It’s pink cement! On a stale wet diet bun! I needed two spoons to get it from the jar to the bun! Oh, but wait. I forgot the peanut butter. The peanut butter is the key ingredient that will pull together these two seemingly mismatched components:
Seriously, I’m not eating that. Would you? Would anyone?
PRUDENCE! (Click to view action tongue)
Didn’t I just say I don’t feel like throwing up today?
Well, look. I’m not a quitter. I’m going to eat a damn Strandwich if I have to have Dave knock me out and stuff it down my gullet.
Thanks to my can(wich)-do attitude, I remember those stale diet graham crackers.
MUCH more palatable (and with just a hint of sogginess). This looks almost edible. I could be on to something here. My Strandwich will conquer first the Sandwich World and then the Real World! It will be chomped on by all!
I blacked out shortly after taking that one brave bite, but oh, my children. The taste lingers. IT LINGERS!
I have a well-rounded vocabulary. I’ve always thought I was pretty good at expressing myself. I only resort to expletives when it’s absolutely necessary. But I simply can’t find the words to describe the horror of The Strandwich.
Did you know pink has a flavor? It tastes like nightmares and ear-aches and the killer under your bed. Don’t be deceived by its innocent color.
I have created a monster.
A monster that no one will eat.
Except maybe . . .
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What’s your most hated sandwich?
Candwich came from here