Write a story about a guy who really likes a sandwich, so much so that he feels a need to say how much he likes it very often and hurt people who don't like it by making them inferior sandwiches that are also poisoned.
This was an admittedly strange ask, but I will nonetheless answer it! Also, you didn’t mention a specific character, so I took free liberty to decide which one to write it for!
!SANDWICHES (and poison) AHEAD!
• America (Alfred F. Jones)
During one bleak, dreary afternoon, our favorite bubbly hero decided to make himself a delicious and tantalizing BLT sandwich.
He was amazed at his own craftsmanship, awed that he was able to make such a scrumptious thing.
The sandwhich was perfect; the white bread was soft, the tomato and lettuce were freshly organic, and the bacon was cooked to a crisp.
It really was the best sandwich Alfred had ever laid his two baby blues on.
But, it was perhaps a tad too flawless. It was simply divine, it didn’t deserve to be touched by him, let alone eaten.
So, he kept his sandwich in a glass container for him to admire always, mouth watering just by staring at the tempting meal.
No matter how painful the pangs in his stomach were, Alfred refused to eat the beautiful BLT. He was deeply, hopelessly in love with it, and there was no turning back.
China, or Yao as was his designated human name, then stumbled across an entranced Alfred sitting alone at a kitchen island barstool, chin resting on his hands as he gazed adoringly at the gorgeous sandwich. Yao’s eyebrows furrowed as he glanced between his blond acquaintance and the moldy, rotting sandwich.
“America, what the heck do you think you’re doing?” Yao questions, crossing his arms and frowning in disapproval. Alfred blearily turns from the sandwich and looks at Yao, his appearance disheveled and worn.
He looks as though he hasn’t moved in two days. He smelled like it too.
“Wha…? Oh, it’s nothing dude.” The normally chipper American dismissively returns to his precious BLT, ignoring the fuming male’s presence.
“Nuh-uh! This is not okay!” The brunette stomps over to Alfred’s display case and grabs the sandwich, cringing in disgust at it’s slightly wet feel.
Alfred’s yells of protest fall deaf on the Chinese man’s ears as he stalks over to the trash bin, promptly throwing the sandwich away. The blond stares, wide eyed in disbelieving horror, at the atrocity Yao had just unknowingly committed.
The American feels rage simmer just below his skin’s surface, his hands clenched at his sides in muffled rage. Yao obliviously washes his hands to rid himself of whatever gross stuff was on Alfred’s old BLT.
“B-Bro, you…!” Alfred clenches his jaw, shutting his eyes and biting his tongue to keep from spitting curses and death threats toward his fellow nation. Yao quirks up a brow, putting his hands on his hips.
“I do you favor by throwing that disgusting thing away.” He comments through broken English. Alfred exhales harshly, forcing his normal thousand watt grin onto his face.
“Oh, man, you’re right! Thank you so much dude!” Alfred lies. Yao preens under the praise, satisfied. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make ya’ something to eat, yeah? A real hero meal!” The hazel eyed man studied Alfred’s face for a moment before shrugging.
“Okay, that fine by me. But if you make me sick I sue.” Yao threatens, plopping down into a chair and looking around the American’s kitchen, noting the differences between his own kitchen.
Smiling wickedly, Alfred darts into the kitchen and quickly makes Yao a sandwich; although it wasn’t as good as his previous one, of course.
With a flourish, Alfred sprinkles in a bit of poison, flattening down the sandwich with his hand and waltzing back into the dining room, setting the plate down in front of the Chinese man.
“Thank you for the food.” Yao says gratefully, picking up the sandwich and inspecting it curiously. Alfred’s fake smile stretches wider.
“No problem dude! Eat up!” Nodding, Yao takes a bite of the contaminated sandwich and immediately clutches his throat, coughing and wheezing.
The brunette begins to foam at the mouth, his eyes rolling back as his body convulses and shakes erratically. Alfred watches for a moment, disinterested, before Yao goes completely still.
Then, Alfred skips over to the trash and gathers the stinking ingredients of his BLT, putting them together the best he could.
Afterward, he strolls back over to the display case and sets the sandwich back into it’s glass, shutting the lid and taking a seat next to the deceased Yao before resuming to once again stare at his beloved.
