I Think Subway Fed me a Testicle Sandwich

I think I’m done with Subway.

I mean, I guess I was always on the fence, and here’s why:

1) The quality of their meat and cheese blows. It tastes like I’m eating straight salt and preservatives.

2) Every fuckin time I eat there, I walk out with the stench of cheap bread melted into my clothes. Read my blog on that topic here.

3) My wife has gotten food poisoning from eating there TWICE, once after eating a 12 inch meatball sub, which meant Donk ended up cleaning up a mess that looked like this:

but smelled like Star Jones’ thong.

Today I think was the turning point. I haven’t eaten at Subway in weeks. But this afternoon I found myself in a pinch. A meeting had run late and I had 30 minutes to eat lunch and drive to the next meeting (Donkey is an EXTREMELY important man).

I knew the closest place to grab a bite was a notoriously busy Subway, but it was after 1:30 PM so I figured I was safe. I quickly parked, dashed inside, and encountered this line:

To make matters worse, there was no available seating inside, and since it was over 90 degrees outside, the Donk didn’t want to eat out there. No problem, I figured, by the time I get to the front of the line, a table will have opened up. Nope. I looked down at my watch. 20 minutes til my next meeting.

OK, so I’ll take my sandwich back to my office and eat it there. Genius. I hop in the car and rush back to work, sweating in the intense heat. Finally I get back to my nice cool office, shut the door, and get ready to eat my delicious meatball sub (you’d think I would have learned from my wife’s example). 10 minutes to spare.

There’s a knock on my door. One of the people I’m meeting with has shown up early, just as I’ve crammed my face full of processed meat and cheese. I make nice and tell them I’ll be with them in 10 minutes. Now I’m in full-on rush mode, chomping down food at a maniacal pace.

And that’s when I bit into the meatball with the hard, rubbery center. At first I thought it was just an odd piece of bread, but soon realized there was a problem with my meat (insert erectile dysfunction joke here). I took the meatball out of my mouth and examined it. The center of it was BLACKISH and dense. Awwww fuck. Luckily I hadn’t swallowed any of it. I considered throwing the rest out, but I was so hungry and in such a rush that I continued eating. Bam! The next ball I bite into has the same, teste-like consistency. Disgusted, fighting back my gag reflex, I chucked the unfinished portion in the garbage and left my office. All I could think of the entire hour I was in my meeting was the fact that there was a 50/50 chance that I’d just eaten a Testicle Sandwich.

Go fuck yourself Subway. From now on I’m eating at McDonald’s. At least there I KNOW I’m eating cow dung and ground-up bones.