Of Weddings and Sandwiches
15 Nov 2021Today’s prompt: “It took her five million years to decide on a sandwich. But when ____ asked her to marry her, she knew the answer was yes. Her friends and family said this was the wrong call. So here’s how the whole mess played out…” [I guess even bi people have their heteronormative moments, because when I first read this prompt, I misread the second “her” in the first clause of the second sentence as “him.” By the time I realized my error, I’d figured out how to turn this into a death scene and it doesn’t really work if I make it two female characters, so I’ll be slightly modifying the prompt.]
It took her five million years to decide on a sandwich. But when Cthulhu asked her to marry her, Idh-yaa knew the answer was yes. Her friends and family said this was the wrong call. So here’s how the whole mess played out…
There were only four people in line when she got to the counter, but the line out the door to the deli was stretching for half a block now. “Okay, so I think I’ve got it narrowed down to the chicken salad or the turkey. The pecans sound pretty good in the chicken salad, but I just noticed you can add on avocado to the turkey and that sounds pretty tasty too. Do you know how many calories are in those two sandwiches? If you get the avocado on the turkey?” Idh-yaa asks you.
“Nope,” you say, pulling yourself briefly out of your glassy-eyed haze. This giant worm and her tentacly boyfriend are taking forever.
“I bet the turkey would be lighter if we go light on the mayo,” she says.
“Babe,” Cthulhu says, “just pick one.”
“Or I could be bad and have the pastrami.”
“Be bad,” Cthulhu says. “Have the pastrami.”
“All right. Sold!” Idh-yaa says.
“Do you want turkey pastrami or beef pastrami?” you ask, and immediately regret saying a word. Cthulhu glares at you.
“Oh gosh, I don’t know. Let me think about that for a little bit.” She closes her eyes and starts clenching the end of her giant worm tail the way someone might absentmindedly clench their fists. “Turkey or beef … turkey or beef … hmm … uh … what kind of mustard comes on that?”
“It comes with French’s,” you say.
“Can I sub in brown mustard?”
You sigh. “Sure.” You turn and yell to Sid in the kitchen, “Sub brown mustard on that pastrami.”
“What pastrami?” Sid yells back.
“They haven’t decided on what kind of pastrami yet so I haven’t put it in.”
From the kitchen: “Oh-kaay.”
“Can I get provolone instead of swiss?” Idh-yaa asks.
“Babe,” Cthulhu says.
“Provolone on that pastrami,” you yell.
“Does that come on rye?” Idh-yaa asks.
“Babe,” Cthulhu says.
“Yup,” you say.
“Does it have a lot of caraway seeds in it? Sometimes I don’t like a lot of caraway seeds,” Idh-yaa says.
“Babe, my lunch hour is almost over and I have to get back to work soon and I have something very important I want to ask you,” Cthulhu says.
“Well, what is it?” Idh-yaa says.
“Not now,” Cthulhu says. “When we get our lunch.”
“Oh, okay.” Idh-yaa says. She turns back to you. “Does it have a lot of caraway seeds in it?”
“I think it has the normal amount of caraway seeds in it.”
“Do you think I could sub in wheat bread instead of the rye?”
You sigh again and turn to yell at Sid. “Wheat bread on that pastrami.” You turn back to Idh-yaa. “Have you figured out if you want turkey or beef pastrami yet?”
“Ooooooh, turkey or beef, turkey or beef, turkey or beef…”
“She’ll have beef pastrami,” Cthulhu nearly erupts.
“Okay,” you say, pushing the button for beef pastrami. “Beef pastrami, brown mustard, provolone, on wheat bread.”
“Yes,” Idh-yaa says. Cthulhu relaxes a tiny bit.
“And what to drink?” you ask.
In a rage, Cthulhu shoves you into his mouth and swallows you in three large gulps.
Sid wraps the pastrami faster than he’s ever wrapped a sandwich in his life and tosses it to the counter. “Free of charge,” he yells. “Help yourself to the soda and chips.”
Before Idh-yaa can dither between the salt and vinegar chips and the sour cream and onion, Cthulhu grabs a bag of every flavor of chip and pours two extra-large Diet Pepsi’s. He and Idh-yaa leave the deli and make a beeline for the closest park.
“Oh my gosh, this is so many chips,” Idh-yaa says when Cthulhu spreads them out on the picnic table.
Cthulhu seems to soften. “I know you have a hard time choosing. Why don’t we start with one of each.” He pinches a bag between two claws on his left hand and two claws on his right hand and rips it open, then delicately removes a single barbecue kettle chip and reaches it toward Idh-yaa’s mouth.
Idh-yaa giggles and opens her mouth like a baby bird. “Mmm. Thank you.” She munches. “So. What did you want to ask me?”
Cthulhu actually looks nervous, something you wouldn’t have thought was possible for a green monster with mouth-tentacles and bat wings. Not that you can see it. You’re in Cthulhu’s stomach.
Cthulhu fishes a large, velvet-covered box out from among the scaly folds of his hide and opens it, revealing a massive ring with a diamond the size of a serving platter. “Idh-yaa,” he asks, “will you marry me?”
Idh-yaa screams in delight. “Yes! Yes, I will! I love you, Cthulhu!” She raises the end of her tail into the air, and Cthulhu’s claws extricate the ring from the box and slide it onto her.
“I love you too, Idh-yaa,” he says. “I want to make you happy.”
“You have,” Idh-yaa says.
They kiss. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so horrifying.
We already know how this story ends. Idh-yaa’s friends and family were right about Cthulhu. He cheated on her. With his sister. He broke her heart, and left her to take care of their four children. A year later, and it still stings when she sees him out with that coiling, betentacled tramp. But then she looks at her kids. Ghatanothoa, who’s gotten so good at playing sports with his varied appendages; Ythogtha, with his beautiful eye; Zoth-Ommog, her little star, with his cone body and starfish arms; and her sweet baby octopus-girl, Cthylla. Was saying yes the wrong call? No, Idh-yaa thinks, as one of Cthylla’s tentacles curls around the end of her tail. Never.