The Racist Sandwich

Here is another old story from my potentially embarrassing archives.

Some years ago I was in a class with a girl I thought was kind of cute.  She was tall and thin with long, dark, wavy hair.  Big brown eyes.  I should also mention that she was black.  This will be important.

I wouldn’t say I was smitten with her or anything, I mean, she was no Marissa, but I was interested.

Anyway, I’m in our university’s takeout dining area in line for a sandwich when the old lady that was working swaps out with the next shift.  The black girl from my class takes over.  Now, any rational person knows that this would be a great time for me to say something to her.  Something so she remembers me in class the next day.  I should ask her how she found the homework.

That’s what I rational person would do.  But I am not a rational person.

My mind immediately hyper-focused on my sandwich, and found it racist.  No, serious…

“What kind of bread would you like,” she asked.

“White.”

“Mhm, what kind of sandwich?”

“Italian.”

“What kind of cheese?”

“White American.”

“Mayo or mustard?”

“Mayo, please.”

I also got lettuce, spinach, and a few other ingredients, but she still asked, “Would you like any black olives?”

“No, thanks.”

I just don’t like olives.

Posted in Humor.

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