Once upon a time, there was a fox who decided one night that he really wanted a Swiss-cheese-and-ketchup sandwich, but he didn’t have any Swiss cheese or ketchup in his burrow. It was really too late to go out, plus he didn’t feel like it, so he made a peanut butter sandwich and ate it. But it wasn’t what he wanted and it didn’t slake his craving, and then he got pretty irritated that he didn’t have Swiss cheese or ketchup right then when he’d thought about it. So, he called out for delivery and he called a few different places, but of course, they didn’t have Swiss-cheese-and-ketchup sandwiches, so he ordered some pizza and some sushi, and while he waited for it, he ate a few bowls of cereal and drank a lot of whiskey and got pretty drunk. By the time the delivery got there, it was about 2:00am and the fox was like, ‘This was so stupid. I’m going to be exhausted tomorrow.’ So, he ate as much of it as he could and then he fell asleep on the couch without even brushing his teeth.
But by then, he was too drunk and full and uncomfortable to sleep very well, and he kept waking up periodically and being like, ‘Damn it! Why’d I do that? All I wanted was a Swiss-cheese-and-ketchup sandwich.’ And then he promised himself that he would get the makings for such a sandwich on his way home the next day, and he just had to hold out until then.
The next day, the fox felt terrible all day long. He was hungover and his stomach was doing that weird, stretched-muscle thing that happens after you really overeat, where he felt like he was a Slinky that someone too young to play responsibly with a Slinky (but at the same time very strong for her age) had stretched to the point that it was just basically a very long, thin metal strip. And the fox really wanted to lie down on his stomach and moan, and also, he still really wanted a damn Swiss-cheese-and-ketchup sandwich and there was just no way to get one for lunch, so he ate this giant club sandwich thingy that cost over $8.00 even though he was still full from the night before, so he really didn’t know why he did that, except that it was lunchtime and so something that felt kind of good was supposed to happen.
But after work! He went to the minimart that was on his way home, because he was positive they had that thin-sliced Alpine Swiss cheese, but when he got there, they only had this really shitty knock-off ketchup that the fox knew from experience was so cheap and thin, it tasted like instant tomato soup powder mixed with water and that wasn’t what he wanted at all. But he also didn’t want to go out of his way to go to any of the bigger stores that were really far away because he was really tired, and it’s not like he was shopping for some specialized gourmet food, or some kind of hot sauce you can only get on certain Indonesian islands, for God’s sake, there was really no reason why the minimart should only carry that terrible ketchup that nobody – NOBODY! – would ever want to buy, and it’s not even like it was that much less expensive than the regular ketchup. It was like maybe $.30 cheaper.
And right about then, something really weird happened to the fox. He suddenly felt as if he’d wanted a Swiss-cheese-and-ketchup sandwich for his whole, entire life, even though he’d really only thought of it the night before, and he felt that he’d been trying to get a Swiss-cheese-and-ketchup sandwich for a thousand million years and everyone and everything had been taking every possible measure to thwart him, even though he had really only tried that one minimart.
So, he went home and killed himself out of sheer frustration, when, if it had been me, I would have just gone into a McDonald’s and gotten a whole bunch of ketchup packets.
Moral: Swiss-cheese-and-ketchup is a disgusting combination, and if that’s what you want out of life, there’s something really wrong with you.
Accismus 
Concur!
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