The trail of snot on the Subway employee’s glove could be seen from across the counter.  To Russell's horror, instead of being tossed in the trash, the glove remained attached to the hand, and was instead lowered into the lettuce bin.

A small, strangled noise escaped Russell’s throat.  

Troy, to his left, turned to him, a flat expression on his face.  “What?”

“She wiped her nose on her glove.  She’s touched the lettuce.  And the pickles.”  He turned to Troy, eyes wide.  “We have to leave.”

The line shuffled forward.  “God dammit, no.  No!  Don’t do this!”  Troy hissed.  “I just came off a twelve hour shift, I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon, and I just want a goddamn sandwich.”

“But!  The snot!  Look, she’s doing it with her other hand now!”

Indeed, the other glove had become besnotted, and proceeded to rummage through the onions.

Troy sighed.  “Okay, yeah, that’s pretty gross.  C’mon, there’s a deli on the corner.”





Everything was fine until a pepper mill mishap caused the deli clerk to sneeze on the cured ham he was slicing.  Russell gagged.

Troy whirled on him.  “Russ, I swear to Christ, just order the roast beef.”

“But!  But!  The nasal explosion!  Ejected mucus can travel at speeds in excess of ninety miles per hour, flooding the entire area with–”

Troy growled in the back of his throat as he grabbed Russell by the collar and dragged him out, Russell babbling all the while.






As they approached the hot dog cart, Russell began to whimper.  “Street vendors are notorious for–”

“Shut up,” Troy snapped.  “This is the last food joint before we get back to the apartment.  There’s nothing wrong with the hot dog cart, just.... Suck it up.”

Russell stared at the sidewalk.  “I am pretty hungry.”

“Me too.  Now let’s–”

They stopped dead in their tracks as they watched the vendor stoop to pick up a hot dog that had fallen on the ground, dust it off, and put it back on the grill.

Troy swore as he facepalmed.  Russell emitted a noise in a register normally reserved for calling dogs.





“I’ll make us sandwiches myself.  Alright?  Breakfast sandwiches.  Eggs and cheese on bagels.”  Troy greased up a pan and dumped in a half-dozen beaten eggs, then started slicing bagels in half.

“See, this is what we should have done from the beginning, Troy.  Controlled environment.  Foreknowledge of ingredients used.  Everything–”

“Fucking [i]shit[/i].”  A trail of ruby liquid blossomed across the white cutting board as Troy flew to the sink and grabbed a wad of paper towels.

Russell’s voice sank to the floor as his eye began to twitch.  “Et tu, Brute?”  

“Oh, fuck you,” Troy spat as he pressed the rapidly reddening paper towel to his hand, “you’re not fucking helpless.  Make your own goddamn sandwich, I need to go wrap this up.”  He shouldered past his roommate on his way to the bathroom, leaving Russell alone in the kitchen.

“Well.”  Russell gingerly placed the cutting board in the sink.  Turning to grab the pan, his elbow brushed against the countertop.  With a start, he checked to see if his sleeve had any blood on it, and insodoing flung the pan and the half-cooked eggs into the sink as well.  He began to hyperventilate as the eggs began to tinge red from the bloodstained cutting board.

Seeing spots, he leaned against the counter to support himself, then recoiled as though stung.  Lifting his hand, he saw that it, too, had been touched by blood.

Russell’s eyes began to vibrate within their sockets.

[hr]

“Police are still investigating the strange and tragic death of Russel Larkin, who set himself and a variety of foodstuffs on fire outside his apartment complex.  Bystanders report that he screamed incoherently for several minutes prior to his death, although he repeated the phrases ‘filthy food’ and ‘out, damn spot’ several times.  While investigators officially state that it's still unclear whether his actions were deliberate or accidental, the incident has attracted national attention.  President Trump had this to say.”

“Clearly the man was disturbed.  I mean, obviously.  No sane man wants to set himself on fire.  But it’s also clear he was calling out for help.  The people are crying out, they’re desperate.  Illegal immigrants are still taking way too many jobs from good, hard-working Americans, especially in the food service industry.  And that’s why I’m introducing new legislation today.  I’m calling it the Russell Act in honor of this brave young man…”