The day started with such promise.
It did not end well.
The time was 1:28pm. The location was the kitchen. I was eagerly removing ingredients from the refrigerator, giddy with the small freedoms that only someone firmly in the adult world can appreciate. I had no emails to check, no phone calls to make, and no pesky chores to complete. Best of all, I was temporarily free from the clutches of a clingy bulldog who uses her adorable facial features to guilt me into giving her any food item I happen to have handy.
Lola was slumbering on the couch, oblivious to my movements.
As I layered condiments and meat between my slices of bread, I realized I needed one more ingredient to complete the perfect sandwich – a slice of cheese. Quietly, I picked up the package. I carefully slipped a fingernail into the slider and slowly dragged it open – making sure the bag did not let out its trademark crinkle noise. As I started to pull a slice of cheese from within, I felt a shiver roll down my spine. Sweat broke out across my forehead and I slowly spun around to confront my worst nightmare.
Lola, the majestic English bulldog.
Unblinking, her bulldog stare burned into my body until it began to penetrate my soul. As I desperately tried to hold on to my composure, I gently placed the slice of cheese on my plate. In a last-ditch effort to break Lola’s hold on me, I turned away from her to put the cheese package back into the refrigerator. Confident I could now withstand her stare, I took a deep breath and turned around.
Lola was nowhere in sight.
When I came back to consciousness, I was eating a sandwich devoid of cheese. I can’t say for certain that Lola has mind control powers, but I can say that I am terrified enough to build a cheese shrine in Lola’s name to ensure that I survive any future sandwich endeavors.