Sandwich

"I'm going to bed," Joe Morris announced to his wife.

"You've been saying that for half an hour," said Diane with a sniff. "You're dying for a cigarette, admit it."

"Maybe. I'll have a bite to eat instead." He lumbered into the kitchen, peered awhile into the refrigerator, decided against heating up leftover pizza, and pulled out bread and peanut butter.

"Peanut butter and lettuce? That's disgusting," said Diane as she passed him. "I'm going to bed."

"Goodnight," said Joe. "I'll be along soon." He plastered peanut butter and mayonnaise on the bread, added lettuce, and took it back to the living room in front of the TV. He lifted it for a bite, but paused when the sandwich said, "Hold on a minute there."

"What did you say?" said Joe.

"I said hold on. Don't eat me, I'm a sentient being."

"I haven't had any beer," Joe said to himself. "I'm not asleep and dreaming . . ."

"No, you're talking to your sandwich," said the sandwich. "I wish you'd pay attention."

Joe carefully set the sandwich on the plate and stared at it. When it spoke the top slice of bread lifted slightly as if it were a lip. As he watched it smiled at him. "That's better."

Joe scratched his head. "Does this mean I can't have a snack?"

"No, you can eat later. I have a message to deliver."

"Okay, shoot." Joe sighed.

"Your civilization has been tried and found wanting. You are bloodthirsty, uninterested in progress, and have terrible taste in music. The Intergalactic Council has decided to cross you off the list of planets capable of progress. This is notice of that decision. You have the right to appeal, but no one will listen, except maybe the Aspergins who are well known to be soft on bad planets."

"So what now?" asked Joe.

"Once I have delivered this message and returned, your planet will be placed on the Eradication List. Your time loop will be unraveled and the consequences will be swift and decisive. In approximately ten earth months your civilization will have ceased to exist, and the planet will be ready for recolonization in about six more months. We are thinking of trying the bees next."

"Bees?"

"Bees are capable of having their intelligence raised to a factor exceeding that of humans, they have social cohesion, and they make delicious honey. They might do a better job with the planet than you or the dinosaurs did."

"Was it you guys that got rid of the dinosaurs?" Joe asked.

"They were not amenable to reform. They had bad taste in music as well; and their color schemes were simply unacceptable."

"Okay," said Joe slowly. "So . . . What if I go ahead and eat you?"

"Eat me!" said the sandwich, startled. "I have already told you I am a sentient being."

"Yah," said Joe. "But what if I eat you anyway? You just said we're bloodthirsty."

The sandwich shuddered. "You can't eat me. I will take over your brain and control you from within. It would be an uncomfortable process for both of us."

"So you have to go back and report first, and then all this unraveling will take place?"

"Exactly," said the sandwich. "So if you will excuse me --"

"Not just yet," said Joe. He took the plate into the kitchen, rummaged through the Tupperware, and emerged with a sandwich sized container into which he slid the sandwich.

"Hey!" said the sandwich. "Hold it! You can't --"

He put the top on and squeezed it down. "See ya around," he said, and put it in the refrigerator.

When his wife found the sandwich about two weeks later, it was covered with green mold and had nothing to say.