12. The Sandwich
“Adam, yer dinner is ready son”, shouted Adam’s mum from the kitchen.
“Okay, coming mum”, shouted Adam.
Adam and his parents lived in a council flat, in a small town called Darvel – one of those towns where everyone knows everyone.
Adam paused Crash Bandicoot on his Playstation and made his way to the kitchen to be fed.
When Adam got to the kitchen he sat down at his usual spot with his mum across from him and his dad to his right.
Adam’s dad wasn’t a very chatty man, and he always looked as though someone stole the jam out of his doughnut, crabbit as fuck.
Adam looked at the plate his mum set out for him – she was no chef that’s for sure – and what supported this evidence was the Asda packaging sitting on the kitchen worktop, a microwaveable chicken curry, Asda’s own brand as well.
“What’s wrong with your face? Dae ye no like what’s on yer plate?”, Adam’s mum asked.
“I don’t like this curry, it hus raisins in it”, complained Adam.
“Just pick them out then”, Adam’s dad said sharply.
Adam looked back at his plate, the steam was rising off the rice and the watered down excuse for curry sauce. The rice was still in the same shape that it left the plastic container, there is more flavour in a empty tube of smarties than there was in the sauce, the chicken was harder than a whores heart and to top it off, there was a rake of raisins through the curry sauce for whatever unknown reason – whoever created this ding meal needs locked up for their crimes against humanity.
Adam did as he was told and picked out the raisins, and he did his best to eat as much of the shite that was on his plate.
He couldn’t tell his mum that he didn’t like the dinner without the fear of his dad going off on one and sending him to his room, so he kept quiet – it was always the best option. Adam’s parent always moaned that he was a fussy eater, but sometimes when you’re presented with a dinner like that, there was merit in the title.
“That you done son?”, asked Adam’s mum.
Adam just nodded his head with a blank expression on his face.
“Do you want anything else? You didn’t eat very much”, his mum said.
“Can I have a slice of buttered bread please?”, he asked.
His mum just stared at him and his dad rolled his eyes and left the kitchen. Adam’s mum turned around and buttered a slice of bread then handed it to him.
“Thanks mum”, and he headed back to his room.
An hour before bath time Adam finished his homework that Mrs Hamilton asked the class to complete. Mrs Hamilton was a great teacher, everyone thought she was the happiest person on the planet and she just loved the children in her class.
Adam spent his last free hour playing Crash Bandicoot on the Playstation before bath and bedtime.
* * *
The next day in school, Adam and his friends were playing football in the playground before the bell rang.
“I was playin’ Metal Gear last night with my big brother, and my mum brought a Burger King hame for us when she got in fae work”, said Chrissy, Adam’s best friend.
“Awww whit man, I’m jealous as fuck. My mum made me a shitey chicken curry, could barely eat it, so had to get her tae make me a sandwich after dinner”, moaned Adam.
“I bet ye the dinner was fine, you’re just a fussy bastard”, said Chrissy.
“I’m no that bad, some foods just have a weird texture”, said Adam.
“Naw, yer just fussy. Ma wee sister is the exact same, it’s annoying as fuck”, said Chrissy.
“Awrite, cheers”, said Adam, and they continued playing football.
The bell rang, signalling all the children in the playground to make their way to class.
“Good Morning everyone”, said Mrs Hamilton.
“Good Morning Mrs Hamilton”, the full class sang back at her.
In primary two the lessons were fairly basic, you weren’t exactly solving problems to the universe, you were basically just adding up farm animals, and subtracting the ones that went to market.
Near the end of the school day, Mrs Hamilton ran over the homework that was due for tomorrow.
“Okay, so tonight when you get home, I want you all to think of your favourite sandwich. Write down the ingredients and how you would make it. Then I want you to draw me a nice colourful picture of the sandwich”, asked Mrs Hamilton.
Adam sat there wide eyed, “Oh fuck”, hethought.
“Everyone take one pack of colouring pencils from the drawer on your way out and make sure to bring them back tomorrow”, said Mrs Hamilton, and all the children left school for the day.
* * *
When Adam got home, he was paranoid about what people will say to him when he shows off his favourite piece*. His mum and dad always said he was weird, so what would everyone in class think of him when he announces that buttered bread is his favourite piece*? He had to get his thinking cap on.
He thought of all sorts of creations and combinations that would blow his class mates away, and surprise his teacher with how mature his taste palate was.
Adam settled on his favourite piece* and started to write down how you would make this delight. The ingredients list and recipe were done, now time to draw down this game changer.
He picked out a cream pencil for the bread. He picked out a yellow pencil for the butter. He picked out a red and green pencil for the filling, and he just started drawing away in his bedroom.
The drawing was complete, and it was a fucking peach of a drawing – so Adam thought.
* * *
The next day in class and Adam is still nervous about showing anyone his favourite piece* – just in case anyone had written down and drawn the exact same piece*.
Mrs Hamilton stood up from her desk and announced that she wanted to see everyone’s homework – the moment of truth.
“Can everyone from table one make a line at the front so I can have a look at your homework”
Table one consisted of Adam, Chrissy, Beth, Meg and Ryan.
Chrissy stood behind Adam and tried to peek over his shoulder to see what was his favourite piece*.
“Whit ye dain?”, Adam said to Chrissy.
“Just tryin’ tae see whit you’ve wrote down, cause I know you’re a fussy bastard”, replied Chrissy.
“Just leave it, you’ll fin oot soon enough”, said Adam.
Adam handed his homework to Mrs Hamilton who read over it with a look of confusion then disgust on her face.
“Adam, do you eat this at home?”, Mrs Hamilton asked.
“Yeah, all the time, I love it, especially how the jam tastes”, said Adam.
“Are you sure you’ve not just made this up?”, said Mrs Hamilton.
And she turned the drawing around for Chrissy to see.
“Christopher, have you ever seen Adam eat this sandwich?”, asked Mrs Hamilton.
“No Mrs Hamilton, Adam doesn’t even like jam”, replied Chrissy.
“Yes I do, I love strawberry jam and cucumber sandwiches”, shouted Adam.
“If you love them so much, bring one for lunch tomorrow”, said Chrissy, and then he added, right in front of Mrs Hamilton, “shitebag if ye don’t”
Adam turned and looked at Mrs Hamilton expecting her to ask Chrissy to leave the class for foul language, but she just met Adam’s eyes and said,
“Aye, shitebag if ye don’t”
*a piece in Scotland is a sandwich, no a fucking gun or a piece of Lego.
Allan's Short Stories 