arthackdotorg

by Ten Li

Years ago the benevolent oligarchs of Bland Vapids devised a plan to change the image of their little big town, and so was launched “Sammich Mundus”, the grandest sandwich contest the world had ever seen. It was to be a merry festival that would please everyone, from filthy peasants to the disdainful bourgeoise.

Winners of the Sammie Awards were determined by a panel of judges comprised of master chefs, esteemed food critics, culinary prodigies, and academics who had written dissertations with titles like, “Condiments in Ancient Sumer” or, “The Dialectics of Coldcuts in Early Industrial London.”

Helas, not everyone was pleased. For weeks surrounding the festival, local sandwich artisans would grouse. They would say, “We used to have such a vibrant sandwich community”, or “Who’s ever heard of ‘mouthfeel’? People don’t talk like that.”  Absurd declarations would be made like, “Cilantro is the same as parsley.”, “No one likes pesto.”, “Tahini isn’t real.”  Some went so far as to claim that the contest was ruining sandwiches for the entire world forever.

The oligarchs held fast to their plans. They surmised that the event would generate a gazillion dollars in revenue, food tourists, or “Toodies” would flock to BV, and the merchandising had limitless potential.