If Solzhenitsyn had written Hogan’s Heroes, three episodes:
1) Newkirk gets a frozen spoon stuck to his scrotum while trying to warm it, Schultz gets his fingers stuck while trying to remove it, in an episode titled, “It’s Not What You Think, Klink.”
2) While serving thirty days in the cooler, LeBeau uses the guards’ blow torch to cook a rat, which he serves with his famous Béarnaise sauce to General Burkhalter at Col Klink’s officers’ luncheon, in a little skit known as “Rat in the Clink.”
3) Unused to German cooking, Kinch scrambles to perform forbidden hygiene and laundry detail, daily scrubbing his ass, pants, and drawers in the snow in a caper called, “What’s the Stink, Klink?”
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The kitchen faucet
Soils itself like an old man
Heaving and wheezing
Far be it from me to proclaim myself an advertising expert. Or, why it sucks to watch TV with me.
“Everyone is going crazy for a fourth one free footlong,” exclaims the active old lady with big and beefy grinders, as she takes a hearty bite of a sandwich while standing among the other individuals who have come to gather at the Subway, each to take home four sandwiches.
1) The guy in the hospital bed who upends his tray, grabbing for his crutch to get to Subway for four soggy sandwiches to fester in the visitors’ refrigerator across the hall.
2) The old woman who tells her other old friend in the fabric aisle to get to Subway quickly, so they won’t be in line at Subway behind someone else ordering four sandwiches.
3) The one hiker who hears from a bird, presumably, that he can get four sandwiches for the price of three, and leaves the other hiker in a tree to run to Subway to procure a pile of sandwiches for himself, because sandwiches were made to be eaten alone in the dark and discarded when they start smelling funny.
This for a sandwich advertising campaign meant to sell multiple sandwiches at a time. Personally, I would've gone with something a little different, like an office group that can stuff their faces at their desks in groupsome commingling. That driver’s pool that satisfies their whacky tastes with a trip to Subway. Those bikers, for when beef just ain’t right. The potential for group comedic hijinks is endless.
But a person buying four sandwiches for themselves to store in the refrigerator is usually a dude, three beers in him, forgetting the numerous other times he tried the same thing, bought a sandwich or two extra to eat later, but when it came time to eat that other sandwich, with the refrigerator door open and stomach growling, he shut it to get a burger.
I like Subway, but four Sandwiches unto myself equals a burgeoning ecosystem arising from the soggy leavened bread, droopy vegetables, and slimy meat.
Maybe that's the idea. Nothing says it's the holidays like slimy meat.
