As many of you are aware I recently posted my blueprints for a sandwich eating escapade. Here is my field report:
I looked at the clock. 11.25pm. I looked late and yet it felt so early. I felt the harsh chill from my cold nibble on my spine. That's it. This sandwich must be made. I welled up with tears from the thought of our brave soldiers.
It was dark and I could barely see anything save the blackened filters of my hunger induced state. I climbed down the stairs slowly, mouth watering in anticipation.
Centuries had passed by the time I reached the fridge. My hand grasped around it's side lovingly and I bathed in its light. I saw the cheese. I grabbed the smooth red cheese packet and opened it gently. The sandwich was going to be made if it killed me.
So then I made it and then I totally ate it. And then I had like a fuckin packet of discos, some milk and some chocolate fingers. It was pretty rad.
Mission like totally successful.
Salute. End communication.