The Sandwich pt1

Glenn wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead as he surveyed the ingredients Roast Beef, American, Gouda, Swiss, Genoa Salami (from Genoa) Provolone…
The list went on and on, but he had already gathered almost all of the most pertinent ingredients, accept for one last crucial element: “Watercress? What in the fuck is Watercress?
Glenn had circled the globe many times over . He had killed more men than he could remember for the Sandwich. For a time he spiraled downward into an abyss of depression and alcohol abuse because he was unable to obtain the perfect bologna. Eventually he climb out of that hole and took the bologna by force, resulting in $4 million dollars worth of property damage. He was 39 now, the last 20 years of his life dedicated to the construction of this Sandwich. His body was tan and athletic, a testament to his Italian/Polish heritage. His black hair was just a starting to gray at the temples, and his hands had known more deli meats than female bodies.
Not that he had never had a romantic tryst or two. Be sure, his skills as a lover were legendary to women both foreign and domestic. But no woman could hold his heart for long, for there was always the Sandwich. Eventually every lover he had realized that whatever her charm, beauty, or intelligence, she could never replace Glenn’s first, truest love. And now, after 20 years, he was close, so very close to reaching the realization of his life’s dream. All he needed was watercress, and he did not know what the hell it was.
The worst part was that he ion Houston, TX. He wasn’t sure why he was in Houston but he was damn well sure that he would not find any watercress there. Whatever it was. Texas is one of the worst sandwich states in the Union, mostly because there were no sandwich shops to be found. Independent pizza shops were rare, so there went that option. He normally would not be caught dead in such a cultural wasteland if not for one person. One woman actually (it always is isn’t it?): Julia.
“Fuckin’ Julia. Why did she drag me way the hell out here for. She knows I hate this state. Oh, there, I answered my own question now haven’t I?”
Julia watched Glenn’s 98 Chevy Impala pull into her driveway.
Hmph. He always comes crawling back now doesn’t he?
Glenn was the only other person in the world who knew as much about The Great Recipe as she did, maybe more. At 42, she was closer to completing the Sandwich than he, but she never would have gotten so far without his help. Whether she was using him, or he her, neither of them were sure.
Soon Glenn, soon we’ll eat the Sandwich together…then we can finally put this Hell behind us and move on with our lives.

End pt. 1
OK Glenn, hold yourself together. You can do this…just don’t look at her eyes…or boobs. Don’t make eye contact or boob contact, and you’ll be fine. Just find out were you can get the Watercress from, and be on your way. Do not get pulled into her bullshit..
Glenn used the key she gave him to open the front door. Years ago she had given him a key that would get him into any home she owned all over the world. Because she showed such inhuman trust in him, he was forced to trust her. She’s in…yeah, upstairs. She likes to watch the sunset this time of day she’d be in the room with the big windoiwns facing the west. He hoped that she didn’t know that he could never betray anyone who showed complete trust in him. It was something his dad taught him that he would never forget. Not that it was hard to remember, his dad never taught him much anyway. So now, he was psychologically oathbound to never betray Julia. H hated her for that.
“I hate you.”, he said as he entered the room. It was a big, decidedly un-Southern style living room. Giant Turkish rugs stretched across the maple wood floors, on which rested chairs and couches of the softest red crushed velvet money could buy. The curtains matched the chairs, of course; pulled to the side by golden ropes that matched the furniture’s gold trim. The room was dark now save for the light of the setting sun. There, silhouetted by the grandeur of the setting sun in the desert, was Julia. All he could see of her was her Coke-bottle curves and her long blonde hair. She was 42, but she was by far the sexiest woman he had ever come across. A part of the him was sure that that she was the sexiest woman he would ever see.
“Most people say hello when they enter a room. But not my Glenn, he’s always been different.”
“You know why I hate you. Why do you trust me so much? How are you so sure I won’t kill you and take everything you have?”
She turned from the window and walked towards him. A floor length deep blue evening gown stretched perfectly across her disruptively large breasts. It then fell lazily around her similarly disruptive hips, just stopping short of her perfectly manicured toes. Intricately woven silver roses circled the chest and hips of the dress, drawing more attention to two areas that already needed no introduction.
“I trust you so much because I know you could never betray someone who shows complete, unconditional trust in you.” Fuck, he thought.
“I have the additional comfort of knowing that if you did anything to hurt me, you would have my psychotic father, my four bloodthirsty brothers, and their near limitless monetary resources hunting you down. You know that.”
“Oh yeah”, Glenn retorted. “Well, what did you drag me all the way out here for? You know I hate this state.” Glenn poured himself another drink and sat down. Julia only drank the finest red wine, and he mad sure to mooch as much of it as possible when he was around her.
“Glenn dear, I have to be in Houston sometimes to run the family oil business, now don’t I?” Glenn suddenly remembered all of the oil wells he saw on the way in. “And I can’t maintain the fabulously opulent lifestyle you’ve grown accustomed t if I’m suddenly not the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, can I?”. Glenn also suddenly remembered that she was CEO of Hendrickson Oil, just one small branch of Old Man Hendrickson’s vast multinational corporation. He was losing…badly; he blindly fumbled for a new tactic. Just as he was about to respond she stepped out of the sun’s shadow, and he saw her in all of her glory…glorious silver roses.
“And if I had no money I wouldn’t be able to keep you immersed in that wonderful Error! Bookmark not defined. you’ve been drinking like a fish.” Glenn, suddemnly self-conscious about his drinking, hurredly swalloewed the last bit of wine in his glass and set it down. Dammit, I’m a grown-ass man, he thought, this bitch can’t just verbally disarm me like this…
“All of which you are more than well aware of.” Glenn regrouped for a counterattack. “Well Daisy Mae, if that’s your story then why don’t you-all have a Texas accent?” He reclined triumphantly into his red velvet chair. “I’ve never heard you talk with one.” She sat opposite him, the slit in the side of her dress unveiling her long, long legs the same way the Louvre would unveil a never before seen Michaelangelo sculpture. “Weell, silly, Big Daddy sent all us chilluns to some fancy speech therapy center in Dallas when we’all was young.” Glenn became very good at spotting fake accents in his travels around the world; this was not one of them. “He said it made us sound like some backwater hicks when alla his rich European friensd came over to bowl. Did you know that we had to wear our stupid compny colors all the daggone time, till ah was eight-teen? Thas wah I never wear red and gold anymore…ever.” She leaned forward, exposing far more cleavage than was psychologically healthy for Glenn. Dropping the drawl as casually as she had pickled it up, she said, “besides, red is such a Hot, Fiery color…Gold too, it symbolizes the sun you know. I’m much more a cool, Water, Moon type of person, don’t you think?”