barbarian baguette battle-royal.

neighbors,
i may be a powderkeg of loud, fresh, hardness,
and i might even be a cannonball of resentment,
and it's very likely that i'm ALSO a raging uncaged ragnarokin'
berserker barbarian battle-beast,
but,
even when all of that is all really happening all at once?
you'd better rest assured that i sure can make one real mean
mutha-ucking meal out of a super-sized exxtra-sexy sandwich, son.
real talk.
worthy warrior spirit counts for a lot,
and i'll funnel all that fuego into the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
and her warm, stormy, mad-scientific kitchen laboratory,
and write a story worthy of the skalds' songs, forever.
i love to make and eat food,
and i'm about that splendor and glory that comes from a well-prepared plate.
that's the truth.
now,
i'll show you what i mean by that...
check the hate-tank-blitzkrieg-type teleport:

more of all of it, all at once.
i'm reppin' that lightning-striking viking raider jauns,
fresh off of the stove, and right into my big angry underbitten orc mouth.
ka-POW!
i doo-doo that full eleven inches of hero-sandwich-style sh!t.
it's true.
and sandwich week accepts no half-measures,
so it's bring the thunder, or be a little b!tchbag,
but there will be no in-between.
i choose thunderous volume, and monstrous appetite every time.
that's a thing.
i got my big ol' baguette, warmed up, and softened on the insides;
a slab or three of snappy crankle-cut pickle stackers;
red & green cabbage, parsley, pea tendrils, scallion slivers, and celery slaw-
cool vegenaisey lube, and crispity-crawnch from all those veggies made the whole
giant jammie-jam so much more expert than some entry-level sh!t would've.
that's no joke,
cayenne cornmeal-crusted fried tofu rectangles keep it professionally protein-rich,
and demostrate my protean propensity to make the hottness happen in all ways
and means within the realm of sandwiches.
i simmered up some homemade agave-sweetened smoky tempeh bacon-style strips,
double boiled and candied, with lots of seasoning and sweetness,
and i added those salty A*-holes right up on there, too.
and then,
with a layer of naturally sugary slippery strings of caramelized vidalia onions,
the whole thing started to take shape.
by the time the ice-shocked curly scallion sprankles hit the roof,
the whole thing was a battle-beast of gastronomically astronomical proportions.
which is of course to say:
too much is the right amount,
and disproportionate serving sizes are the only ones i'm interested in.
throw in a side of steak fries, and serve those with sriracha vegenaise,
and you've got yourself a category 11 explosion of dinnertime dominance.
*
and an hour less time is also on the menu.
i've places to be, sixty minutes ago, even.
i didn't oversleep (i never do)
but i've still got to catch up to this time-traveling leap into the future.
even when you're on that next-level synch,
a skip in the stream creates ripples, that disrupt the flow, y'know?
it's the very last night of sandwich week,
and i'm already running behind in all the ways i'd rather not.
i've got a job to do...
and this is it;
never quiet, never soft.....