death sandwich

I'd like to relate a strange little story that ends with me doing the running man while eating a sandwich in my living room and humming "death sandwich, it's your birthday.. go sandwich...".  

A sandwich that I will hereafter refer to as the "death sandwich".

Perhaps I should start at the very beginning...

We have known our neighbors since we were old enough to remember anything at all.  they are really awesome people, great neighbors.  Anytime you need a hand with anything, they have the tools and assistance you need.  Anytime they bake anything or make too much food, they bring us some.  They even cart our trash cans out to the curb for us each week before we can get to them ourselves.

So today, in keeping with their generous nature, the lovely lady from next door came over with a little treat for us.

"Hi"

"Hello"

"We brought you some sandwiches", she proclaims, holding out a large ziploc baggie filled with croissant sandwiches.

"Oh! thank you so much..."

"Oh, it's no problem.  We were at a funeral and they were just going to throw them out.  I thought you might like some"

"um oh... thank you very much"

*door closes* 

these death sandwiches are fucking delicious