The Galactic Sandwich
By Scary Boots
Using some ker-azy application of theories that are far too difficult to even mention, let alone explain to normal people who have sex and stuff, the European Space Agency has discovered that somewhere in this infinite universe there must be a galactic-sized sandwich. The cosmic snack is akin to sarnies seen on Earth, only due to scaling-up the ‘air’ pockets are now filled with ‘dark yeast’. The filling in this monstrous butty is not yet fully understood, however it is home to a highly-evolved mould species. Don’t worry; these are the good sort of aliens! The pan-galactic penicillin’s only fear is that one day the Big Crunch will come, followed by The Time Of Mastication.
Their only vice is occasionally using tractor beams to slam other planets, gloopily, into their tasty comestible, to ‘add seasoning’. The splash-back from these incursions leads to mayonnaise flares, which should be visible here on Earth in a mere two million years, so tell your descendants to watch out for the tangy droplets!
There is debate over what to name this toothsome region, as obviously the natives can’t communicate with us and even if they could, that’s simply not what colonisation is about. The Italians are referring to the consumable cosmos as ‘Massimo Panino Galactico Supremo’, while the English are split between ‘The Earl’s Splendid Delectation’ and ‘Baps’. The French have so far offered no suggestions save “Deux très grand pieces de pain avec quele qu’chose entre les deux (DTGPDPQQCELD)” but are strongly vetoing every more pronounceable suggestion. Applying the (George) Lucas assumption, we know that the stellar sandwich will eventually instigate a horrific space war between those who prefer the chicken and mustard filling and those who support ham and pickle. Being more concerned with killing each other for reasons like being born in different areas, the humans won’t have an opinion, but at the same time they won’t want to miss out on a really good fight. Given this, an alliance with the Chicken side is inevitable; let’s face it, no one really understands ham.
A dreary future for humanity then, blasting through space lonely and desperate, slaves to the whim of sentient food poisoning and the caprices of colour and flavouring, punctuated only by sudden depressurized death.
We suggest you don’t think about it, and instead devote your energy to analysing what, exactly, Tom sees in Katie. Alternatively, try to remember that by then you, your friends and every single respiring thing you’ve ever seen will be dead.
This article first appeared in the quite brilliant student rag The Cheese Grater. Now that's journalism!
You can find out more about Scary Boots at her homepage.
Or get spaced out reading these:
- Space tourism - The Null's Destination Space series
- Space fashion - Spandex space suits
- Space pictures - The Null exposes NASA con
- Space and time - Time travel conference
Share this
