A Sandwich

A Sandwich

A Story by SauceC

Sandwich 
 

Dimitri heads down the stairs slowly wiping his eyes, going into the kitchen, he overhears Todd on the phone, "I'm telling you man boneless wings are chicken nuggets." 

 Dimitri rolls his eyes as he checks the refrigerator. 

 "If you want anything at all to eat, then you're out of luck Dim," Todd calls out hearing the commotion. "You know what you have to do right?" 

 Grabbing his keys, Dimitri makes his way to the door, visibly annoyed, "I'm not helping with the rent for five months."  

Todd gets up to stretch. "Fine, that's more than fair...good luck, DG. 

" Before getting in his car, Dimitri makes a quick phone call as a heads up.   

The host looks nervous pacing across the stage.  

With a few glances at his watch the camera man counts down; "We're live in 5...4...3...2..."  

He takes a deep breath and gathers his composure. "Hello! Welcome to the longest running and most popular gameshow: What If?” 

 The live audience applauds on cue. The camera man signals for the side lights to come on, revealing the contestants. 

 The host walks to the person on the far right, “Can you tell us about yourself?”  

He sits up with a cracked smile, “Hello!” There’s a slight pause, almost like he’s hesitating. “I go by The Black Buddha...I’m 23 years old, and I hope we all have fun.”  

The host moves on to the next contestant. “I’m Donny Costello; I’m 25 years of age. More importantly, be on the lookout for my book coming on of these days.”  

The audience cheers as the host gets to Dimitri; who’s sitting back in his chair, arms crossed like a child whose been denied dessert. The look on his face shows he really doesn’t want to be here. “Dimitri Thomas, 21 years, and I’m hungry.” To his surprise, the crowd found him funny, making him irritated. 

 “Hi everyone. I’m Para Chu...to be truthful with you guys I don’t know where I’m at but I’m happy to be hear.” 

 “Airhead,” Dimitri mumbles as he’s rolling his eyes. 

 The last contestant pulls the mic closer to her, “The name’s Courtney Stain, I’m 20 years old, and I’m here to win!” She says the last part louder; exciting the audience into an uplifted perk up.  

“Now that we know our players, who do you think should go first?” 

 The audience calls out different names, most of them for Courtney. “Oh...you heard them! Dimitri you’re up.” Reluctantly, he gets up to the center of the stage, sitting in another chair. “Okay...Dimitri, what if you’re a recently famous rapper who’s in an interview you don’t want to be in?”  

Dimitri lets out a heavy sigh as the stage moves and changes to a radio station. The crowd goes wild as the first contestant gets ready to do his ‘What If’. Dimitri puts on the headphones as the DJ starts the interview.  

“Good afternoon America! It’s your boy DJ Pinkie Toe and today I’m here with the one and only DG, also known as Dimi God or Dimitri Thomas.” The audience claps on cue. “DG, let’s start off with an easy question.”  

Dimitri puts his elbows on the table, with an uninterested look. “Where are you from?”  

He leans in the mic, “The place I was previously.” 

The DJ is taken back from his response. “Alright, where do you see the current state of Hip-Hop?” 

 With an extended sigh, “I see the state of Hip-Hop, in the state of Vermont.”  

The DJ starts to show signs of annoyance. He leans into his microphone trying to get determined, “Our sources tell us that you battle rap, from time to time. Can you tell us about your next challenger?” 

 Dimitri nods, “The person who challenges me next.”  

Persistent, Pinkie Toe goes on, “What can you tell us on this next challenger?”  

“I can tell you everything about the next challenger.” 

 Pinkie Toe gets excited the interview is going somewhere. “Great! Can you tell us their name?” 

He shakes his head, “Not that.” 

“How about where they’re from?”  

“Not that.”  

The frustration comes back to the DJ. “Is it another famous rapper?” 

 “I can’t tell you that.” 

 He rubs his forehead, taking a brief moment to continue. “What can you tell me then?” “Whatever I want to tell you!” Dimitri says finding some enjoyment in this.  

“But you choose not to?” 

“Nothing that you’re asking, Pinkie Toe.”  

 He lets out a hysterical chuckle, “What kind of questions to ask?”  

A smirk travels across Dimitri’s face, “Good ones of course.” The audience is quiet, they’re invested.  

“What is your creative process like?” 

 “Next question.”  

“Who do you think the future of rap would be?” 

 Dimitri thinks about it for half a second, “Next question.”  

 DJ Pinkie Toe starts to get red. “Are you still running for President?”  

 “Next question.” The crowd catches on and laughs off cue. 

 “...Who are the top five rappers in your opinion?” 

 Dimitri is taken back by this interesting question. He sits back and holds up his index finger, “Well, you got...”  His other fingers come up one by one, “...the next question.” 

 DJ Pinkie Toe makes a tight fist. “Is it true that you are business partners with Sauce Inc.?”  

“Mind ya business.”  

He sighs heavily, “Can you tell the people about your next album?” 

“Can you tell me about the next question?” The audience is plagued with laughter, making the DJ even angrier.  

“What makes you different fro-”  

Dimitri interrupts his question, “What makes the next question different from what you’re been asking?” 

 Reaching his breaking point Pinkie Toe yells, “Are we going to do the interview or not!” The whole building is silent.  

After a few seconds, Dimitri sighs realizing he took it too far. “Yea...yea, I’m sorry about that.” 

 He regains his composure and nods. “Can yo-” 

 “Next question.” 

 Out of a fit of rage, DJ Pinkie Toe throws his headphones and leaps over the table towards Dimitri. The host runs towards them before something happens and the camera cuts to a commercial.  

 

 

 

Todd got hungry himself and decided to go to Chicken We’ll Fill Ya. He pulls up to order and stares at the menu. 

“Hello, welcome to Chicken We’ll Fill Yaare you the Black Buddha?”  

“No, I’m not.”  

After a pause, the person continues, “I’m Brad; what will you have?” 

 Todd looks at the menu again, never knowing what to get when asked. “Let me get umm...a chicken biscuit. Make sure it doesn’t have any meat, no biscuit, no cheese, and no vegetables.” 

 There’s another pause on the other side. “Then what you want on it?” 

 Todd gets annoyed himself, “Just make it, it’ll come out good.” 

 Brad stops to think about this, “Sir...I don’t know what you want me to do. You want a chicken biscuit, but don’t want the chicken or the biscuit.” His manger overhears the order and comes out of his office. He shoots Brad a look, the feeling of someone staring makes him turn around. “Your food is coming right up sir; would you like a drink with that?”  

Todd goes back to looking at the menu. “Yea...get me an extra medium lemonade please.” Todd pulls up where his food and drink is ready. He pays for it and drives off. 

 Brad looks at the empty bag, “I forgot his straw!” 

 His manager is right behind him with his hands on his hips. He’s shaking his head, “Then why are you standing here, doing your job? Go give that man his straw!”  

Brad grabs the straw, “Right away sir.”  

Brad sprints out of Chicken We’ll Fill Ya. He sees the car and takes a mental note of the license plate. Todd drives to a red light so instead of running into traffic, he does the next best thing.  

“Get out the car!” The 400-pound, middle aged man is more confused than anything. Seeing a 5’13, 195-pound kid wearing a grey buttoned up shirt with a chicken on it, isn’t something the person who he thought will rob him. Brad throws him out of the car with a little too much force. He speeds through a red light going after Todd. 

 A car is speeding behind Todd a little too fast. "Must be the TRS.” He lets out an annoyed sigh, slamming his foot on the gas. “Finally coming after me.” Todd accelerates to 115 miles per hour, weaving through the other vehicles. The two of them switch lanes until they pass the business district. Seeing that whoever isn’t giving up, he tries to shake him by using back roads along with quick turns.  

“I’ve been gone for too long...” Brad says starting to stress out. 

 Brad stays on him, taking notice to the glove compartment. Todd does a sharp turn, driving in to oncoming traffic, switching lanes to avoid the cars. Once Brad isn’t in sight, he pulls over to gather his bearings. After a few moments of relaxing, gunshots are whistling through the air. Before he could pull off his tires are shot, forcing him to stay there.    

After a minute or so, Brad gets out the car and goes up to the window. He opens the door to see Todd searching through his wallet.  

“I got the money...just hold o-” Todd lost his voice, looking to get who it was.  

Brad holds out the straw, “I forgot your straw, sir. I’m sincerely sorry. Please accept my apology.” 

 Todd slowly takes the straw and sits there in disbelief and shock. He sits back trying to process what happened at that moment.   

 

° 

 

The audience applaud as the contestants are all done with, their ‘What If’ challenges. 

 The host comes in front of the stages, “Alright we’ve seen them: trying to get a straight answer out of a politician, read a short story with their eyes closed, trained a sloth to win a race against a cat, and much more. Now it’s your time to decide the winner!”  

The audience castes in their votes. Dimitri sits back in his chair, with a black eye and some new bruises. Courtney is eagerly waiting, and Para is asleep. 

 The screen goes black, “The votes are in and we have...” The screen shows a bar graph of the number of votes each of them received.  

“Donny Costello with the most votes at 39.” He crowds congratulates him as he stands with a grin. “But the winner is Dimitri Thomas!”  

The crowd starts to show their disappointment and boo the host. He defends himself, “In the end, it doesn’t matter who does the best, or has the most votes; as long as they bring the most ratings to the show.” 

He stands up to join the host. “For your prize Dimitri...you win a sandwich, not just any sandwich but an above average sandwich!” Dimitri takes it and leaves without saying a word.  

 

Todd opens the door, to see Dimitri eating a sandwich on the couch. “You look rough...” Dimitri doesn’t look up, he just continues to eat. 

 Todd smiles and goes to sit next to him, he unwraps his food to find two pickles. “Dimi...are pickles vegetables?”  

Dimitri sees where we went to go eat. “Are you willing to go back to get your order fixed?” 

 “You right...you ain’t never lie,” Todd says putting his pickles in his lemonade. They eat in silence, until Todd turns on the TV the news. 

“Earlier in the day, we had reports of a high-speed cha-” Todd quickly turns off the TV. 

 Dimitri smiles, “Not feeling a good news report?” 

 Todd shakes his head. “I did go and pay the money I owe from the TRS.”  

“Didn’t you owe like...$5,285 and half a penny?” Dimitri says with a surprised expression. 

“I did.”  

Dimitri grabs the remote, “Look at you, getting things done."  

He turns on the TV. “In other news, there was a fight on the set of Wha-” Dimitri quickly turns off the TV.  

Todd grins, “Not in the mood for a news report?”  

He changes the subject, “What are we having for dinner?” 

“We have to go out and get something.” They realize what he means and share a laugh.   

 
 

© 2020 SauceC


Author's Note

SauceC
An old story that I didn't take seriously but want to improve upon it for future use

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Added on June 29, 2020
Last Updated on June 29, 2020

Author

SauceC
SauceC

Baton Rouge, LA



About
I'm an aspiring novelist and wanted to get my feet wet so I can improve my works of fiction. more..

Writing
Airtime Airtime

A Story by SauceC