A Sanctified Sandwich

April 21, 2015

Writing Club

Prompt: Write a story using: A Virgin Mary statue, a bucket of marbles and a sandwich nobody wants to eat.

This one was a tough.  It’s an odd combination.  We had 25 minutes to write our story on the spot.  I usually know which way I want to go immediately and fly along with it.  This time I stewed a while before setting in.  I knew I wanted to use the idea a holey/holy/wholly sandwich and the idea of communion - the bread represents Christ’s body.  It's a rough sketch, but I struggled with this one.

Murray Murtague shoved the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth and downed it with a swig of coffee.  “They’re saying it’s a bloomin’ miracle!  All those busy bodies from the ladies auxillery all over town.” The Scotsman bellowed merrily, slapping his hand down on the table making his plate dance and sending his fork skittering across the surface.  He gave a loud belch and daubed his lips daintily with the yellow napkin.  “A sancitified sandwich.  Ha!  Holy bread, truly somebody’s done lost their marbles, a whole bucket of them!” 

            “I sae it with my very own eyes, I did! The crust and all, it ‘s like them angel clouds photos you see on the internet.”  His appetite well sated, Tom McGuiness pushed his plate away leaned back on his chair, brushing the crumbs from his green velvet jacket and then crossing his arms.  “Ms. Margery herself put in the display case in the window, pastrami on marble rye and a side of faith –in more ways than one.” Tom McGuiness gave a hearty laugh, followed by an equally loud belch.  “Well excuse me! She’d be a hoping to draw an extra large lunch crowd.  Our very own pub’s been blest.  Tis holy bread in more ways than one.”  He took a swallow of coffee and held up his coffee mug in request for a top up.

"I'll put on another pot for you, Tom!" Walking over to clear their finished plates, Ms. Margery interjected with a broad smile, “Tis an image of the very Virgin Mary herself, like down at the kirch.  See there the voids in the bread.  Imagine that!  The loaf rose just like that, the very swirls and all.  Then Molly Mae cut into it without even noticing it and served a slice to Father Downs who swore it were suitable for communion on Sunday, as veritable as the body of Christ it be.  Can you not see it just there Murray?”  

            Tom McGuiness’s lunch companion Murray Murtague, wasn’t sold.  “Seems like a mighty waste to leave such a lunch unfinished.” He was eying up the delicacy resting on Ms. Margery’s finest plate, a burgundy and gold floral pattern.  “I can smell that pastrami from here.  Seems to be my stomach would be well blessed, sanctified and saved to be sure if you’d be so kind as to bring me a second helping."