This post was inspired by today's 5-minute writing prompt in the Freewriters Community - 24 october 2024, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2535: the worst sandwich
Enjoy !
Image by WikimediaImages from Pixabay
The prison canteen was busy. It always was at this time of day.
Prison Officer Wallis barged to the front of the queue. The convicts had little choice but to make way, grumbling as they did so. After all, he was the one with the stick and can of mace.
"Sandwich. Now."
Behind the counter was prisoner 548890, known to his mates as Billy Little. Not his real name, that was just what they called him. He was anything but little, at six foot three and built like the proverbial outhouse.
Billy just nodded, a blank expression on his face, then turned around to make the sandwich on the back counter.
"What's wrong with spag bol, like everyone else is having ?" his co-worker, prisoner 445782 asked.
"Dunno Joe. Screw him," was all the response Billy gave. A man of few words.
He turned and gave the warder his sandwich. Wallis took one bite and his face screwed up.
"What do you call this ?" he asked menacingly.
Joe snickered and nudged Billy. "Looks like you served him up the proverbial shit sandwich."
Shaking his head, Billy laughed quietly. "Nah. But I might have spat in it. Oh, and added plenty of Colman's mustard and a couple of red peppers."
Wallis saw the two having a quiet joke at his expense. He couldn't make out what was being said over the din of the canteen, but he knew it wasn't nice. He pulled the night stick from his belt and flicked it open.
"That was the worst sandwich I've ever had, you scum," he said as he advanced on the two cons, raising the stick.
Quicker than lightning, Billy responded. He lashed out, catching Wallis full in the mouth with a fist the size of a Big Mac.
The warden went down like a sack of potatoes, a couple of teeth bouncing across the floor.
Billy looked down with grim satisfaction. "THAT is the worst sandwich. In Tooting we call it a knuckle sandwich."