Volume 1 #4

The Ham Sandwich Vol. 4…I think?

Apparently I owe all of you cookies, cheeseburgers, and a slave Matt or something

Letter from the Writer, Editor, Ham Sandwich

Yeah, yeah. I know all of you are like, “Dear God not another Ham Sandwich. Jesus, give it up man.” Well I CAN’T!!! It’s and addiction, and you will respect my addiction. Anyway I have returned and I am once again going to try and rebuild my fractured lif-eh hem, I mean begin writing the Ham Sandwich again and hopefully find new and innovative ways to make it better. For instance we will actually have a “Dear Sandwich” section. This will be a panel completely devoted to people who need to as question about life and get helpful answer from the resident sandwich. (Note: Sandwich has no degree or experience in social services. Taking advice from said sandwich is at your own risk and having read this you agree to everything I have and will ever say.)

Enjoy

The Writer, Editor, Ham Sandwich

Article

The Holiday Season, or the one time of year where it is easier to round up little people, put them in burlap sacks and beat them with raids.

Aww yes, the good old holiday season. When I think of the holidays I think of how my mother always sets up her little Christmas village. How I get all excited when presents fill up under the Christmas trees. The increasing number of homeless people who pass away in the middle of the night in the sheer cold and then are put in the poor kid toy bin down at the Salvation Army. I remember the first Christmas that I can…remember when I was a little kid. My family lived in a small single level trailer type home down in the urbanized ghettos of Colorado Springs. We couldn’t afford heat back then be cause greedy Ebenezer paid my father far too little for even a piece of coal. Anyway something must have come over mister scrooge that night because he came into our house ranting like a lunatic and declaring that my father could have his entire fortune. My father then gestured to mister scrooge, with the nuzzle of the gun that he had pointed at him, towards the stairs, to the basement. Mister scrooge seemed so happy with a slightly crazy smile, a bloody nose and what looked like tears running down his face. I could tell he was weeping with joy. Mom told us to start opening up presents and after a loud bang came from the basement father joined us to open up his. I guess Mr. Scrooge left because we never saw or heard from him again. Mom said that he went some play nice. My father laughed and added, “yeah, nice and hot.”

Life was a whole lot better after that. We moved into a bigger house and had nicer things.

Dear Sandwich

Hello everyone welcome to the first ever episode of “Dear Sandwich.” Today we have many letters from…um…hmmm.

Well, next week we will answer more of you questions, and Jill, don’t worry. The bleeding will stop. Remember what we said in the letter.

*To send letter to Dear Sandwich email The Ham Sandwich and direct the letter to “Dear Sandwich.” Letter will be answered in the order they are received.

Ending:

During my grace period (yeah right) I lost many of my readers and may have some dated email address’s, so if you still want to keep the ham sandwich coming to you send me an response email and if you know someone who would like to read the ham sandwich send their email as well