honey mustard man

I think that the Subway on Metro Center Blvd. is an establishment that takes drug rehab patients. I can successfully go through the line and not make eye contact with one single person. Every sandwich artist looks just beyond me with a blank stare. And their questions and interactions are like a stale ballet.

"Six inch or foot" they say
"meat?"
"cheese?"
"anything else?"
"sauce?"

At this point I feel like if I don't stop them, my sandwinch could be flooded with Honey Mustard and declared and natural disaster zone.

Shouldn't they say thank you or applaud me for eating a healthy lunch? Just a little inspiration to come back? That might be too much. That might not be part of their rehabilitation plan. So, I do come back with the motivation that Keith Urban might be my honey mustard man.