Writing prompt: Write an eulogy for a sandwich, to be delivered while eating it.
#3: An Insincere Eulogy For Mister Sandwich
I give it a tiny nibble.
Um, I mean, a humongous and relentless chomp.
You know, I feel kind of guilty. I guess this is what they call "inner conflict"?
Writing an eulogy for someone who is dead is one thing. But writing one for someone who is halfway dying, which you are killing---very willingly, at the very moment you are writing the eulogy---is the hardest. Also, it doesn't make any sense. Mom said we must pay tribute to the dead. But what about the dying? Why hasn't mom thought of that? People who are dead have already gone through their terrible torment. People who are dying are still in the process of being tortured.
Anyway, I'm just blabbering now.
I am here today to deliver an eulogy, written from the bottom of my heart, for Mister Sandwich. May he be listening to me--- from wherever he is, the sky beyond--- or my filthy mouth.
I clutch its delicate intestines, taking a big bite. I swallow an organ---a sunny side up.
Mister Sandwich has contributed much to mankind. He has sacrificed many of his kind---and today himself, to sustain life by resorting to being eaten.
I give it yet another bite, leaving angry tiger teeth marks on its sandy-white skin.
Mister Sandwich has lead a tough, and weary life. May this be a much needed rest for him from the terrible, horrifying life experiences just preceding his death: being shoved into the tiniest, most suffocating room you can imagine---the lunchbox; being cornered by the prettiest girl you can imagine---the lunchbox cover, who came awfully close; and being bounded by the most limiting, controlling, manipulative parents you could ever imagine---two rubber bands. May this be a good rest for him now--- a rest from all the horror.
I chomped down on its cabbage ribs. A sliver of onion tissues slip out and drop onto the floor of the school bus.
He has fought hard. He has served well. We will not shed tears because of our enormous loss, we will rejoice because he existed.
I take my last bite. I lick my lips, savouring every last taste that still lingers on my tongue. I rub my happy tummy as I recline satisfiedly on my bulky backpack.
I, Mister Human, along with his lifelong companions, a loyal family of four---Mister Squelchy Tomato, Missus Sloppy Cabbage, Miss Hopeful Sunny Side Up, and Master Onion Halos, all sincerely hope from the deepest depths of our sincere hearts that Mister Sandwich shall live a good life, whichever Second Home he has chosen to reside in---be it the sky beyond, or someone's stomach; whatever he chooses to be reborn as---a beautiful, lovely angel, or smelly, disgusting, repulsive poo.
I belch loudly.
May he rest in blessed peace.
Copyright Rachel Tan, 13 June 2017.
I hope you guys enjoyed my slightly different story! :p I hope it was refreshing for you! ;)