Chris' Sandwiches

Back in high school, I had a friend named Chris. He was my best, and only, friend. I was a sort of unpopular nerd-jock hybrid. I played track, followed by D&D, or something of the likes. I was too nerdy for the jocks and too jockey for the nerds. I sat by myself at lunch, usually forced to sit on the floor when all the tables were filled (well, less of filled and more "occupied" as the other students put it). It wasn't bad. In that time I had much time to think about my life and such; but that's besides the point.

Within the second year of high school, a new student had transfered in. it was always a HUGE deal when we got a new kid at school. The entire school k-12 was around 500 students, and this new kid was stranger than most. Tall and lankey, absurdley white with short crop black hair and a long face, he stood taller than everyone else in the hall in class transitions.

We first met in my first hour English (my favorite class of the day). Other than that, we had no more classes together.

"You. New kid. Go sit by... hmm... the weird kid in the back." My teacher said in a false sassy voice.

He lumbered over to his new seat, sat down and smiled at me. I saw something in his eyes. something wasn't right. It seemed he had something askew, but I couldn't tell just by a glance. It almost seemed he had some malevolence in his smile, but I couldn't tell.

As time went on, we grew to know each other more and more. we shared my spot at lunch; the small spot on the floor no one had to walk through. He didn't seem to notice. Every day he brought his lunch in a plain, brown paper sack. It was always the same; A sandwich and some drink in a thermos. What got me was how delicious the sandwich always smelled. We were the only ones who sat around, but if he brought those to a table, I'm sure he'd be pretty popular.

One day, curiosity got the best of me and I had to ask. "Hey Chris?", I asked, squinting and half smiling.

"Yeah?" He replied in mid bite through his mouthwatering sandwich.

"Those sandwiches, are they always the same one?"

"Yep. I make them myself. They're good, so why would I eat anything else?" he said chuckling and shrugging.

"I hate to ask," I said, slopping the pile of indistinguishable meat over on my plate. "But could you make two sandwiches a day so that I can have one? It beats the living shit out of these school lunches."

"Sure," He replied, smiling, "it really wouldn't be any problem for me to whip up one more."

"Oooh-ho-ho-oh hell yeah. I'm gettin' me one of those sandwiches!" I thought.

"Cool. Thanks so much."

"No problem." He replied.

The next day, the morning hours went by so slowly, waiting for lunch to roll around. Chris and I talked during first hour. He said he made me a sandwich for lunch today. I don't know what I was more thrilled about; the fact I'm gonna have one of his sandwiches or that I didn't have to eat the school lunches.

In good time, lunch rolled around. I practically ran to my spot with Chris and dug into my sandwich. It was probably the most delicious sandwich I had ever eaten in my entire life. It was wonderful. Chris picked up on this and asked "You like?"

"Oh hell yeah!" I managed to say between bites. The only problem I had is that it was gone.

He invited me over to his house for some video games and such later that day, as we were leaving. I agreed and we hung out for a while at his house. Come to find out, his family owns a meat locker and that's where he gets his meat from. He smiled with the sme kind of manevolance he had when we first met. I shrugged this off and we started up the ol' X-box 360 and played a few rounds of Halo. Before too long, I had to be going. I grabbed my stuff and headed out the door.

Over the next couple of years we became best friends. I got to know his family. His Father, Mother, and little sister. We chatted, played X-box and enjoyed his awesome cooking. One late afternoon he said he'd show me how he makes his sandwiches. I was over to his house in no time flat.

I open the door and walk in the premisis. It was absurdly quiet. My heart began to beat faster and threaten to jump out of my chest. I gulped hard.

"Chris?" I spoke out into the dark of his house.

"Where're you at man?" I looked around puzzled.

My gut screaming at me to run, turn around and run. I trusted Chris enough to ignore that feeling and proceed forward. Suddenly I felt a force on the back of my head. It was so hard and so jolting that It felt as if my face would fly right off my skull. I noticed by body betraying me and the ground becoming closer as my vision fades to black.

Eyes closed, I slip back into reality. I felt a chill pierce my whole body and I shivered violently, and opened my eyes. I looked around me to find the cleanly cut corpses of animals big and small, all hanging on meat hooks dangling from chains anchored to the ceiling. The floor, stained red with frozen blood and other bodily substances. I sway gently from side to side, tied upside down by my ankles, bound and gagged, suspended about 5 or 6 feet in the air. I heard footsteps coming from a hallway in the locker. I made muffled groan-screams to try to get the attention of whoever was there. Chris rounded the corner, in a blood-stained apron.

"Oh good. you're awake" He smiled his devious, evil smile. "I was about to give up on you."

My eyes were wide in terror as he approached. I began to cry.

"You know. I don't show just anyone how to make my sandwiches, you should feel honored." he said, sticking a needle into my arm and pushing the clear fluid into me.

I immediately felt limp. He chuckled, cutting the rope which held me up letting me slam, shoulder first, into the freezing floor with a sick popping noise. I cryed harder with muffled screams of agony, dampened by the gag.

He picked me up off the floor, a small chunk of cheek skin staying with the floor as he pulled me up. I could feel the pain of it all, but couldn't move. He carried me over his shoulder to a different part of the freezer where I saw his family hung by meat hooks, disemboweled. Their skin gone on all but their heads, ready to butcher. He held me to his chest away from his swinging family, to a meat hook dangling from the ceiling and whispers in my ear "Welcome home." He turns me around, and I feel the hook pierce my ribcage and up through my shoulder behind the collar bone." I scream in agony, but to no avail. My frozen tears stick to my face, melting at the contact of the new ones.

He lets me go and my full body weight hangs on the hook. I continue to cry as my skin rips from the pressure.

"You've always loved my sandwiches so much. now you know how I do it." He brings a sharp knife to my face and cuts my gag.

"WHAT THE FUCK MAN!?" I scream. "SOMEBODY! HELP! HELP ME!"

"That'll do you no good in here. It's totally sound proof." He smiles at me.

"You know. this wasn't always the ingredient. When you started eating them, it was cats and dogs from my old neighborhood." He chuckled.

"Isn't hard to gain their trust. a few cuts of fatty meat with sleeping drugs and wham." He punches his open palm.

"Like you. It wasn't hard. make a friend, and... well..." He giggles a bit.

"Wham." He says bringing his fist down on my imaled shoulder, digging the blunt side of the hook into my joint.

I scream out in pain while he laughs hysterically like it was the funniest feat of physical comedy he'd ever seen.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm kind of busy right now. I have plenty of cooking to do now that I am opening my own sandwich shop. I'll call it Chris' Sandwiches. He smiles with glee. Everything was fading in and out and I could no longer scream. he moves closer and holds the knife to my throat.

"You are going to be so... delicious." He says as he licks his lips and drags the knife across my throat, spraying his face with blood. My vision goes black and fades away.