By Matthew Sanborn Smith
It all started when Lenny ordered a fish sandwich. “This sandwich tastes too fishy,” Lenny complained. Chico was the manager on duty.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “Fish sandwiches have a tendency to do that.”
“Well, you need to do something about that,” Lenny said.
“One moment, sir,” Chico said. He grabbed two pieces of bread and handed them to Lenny. “Try that. Tell me what you think. Lenny took a huge bite and chewed while his eyes grew wide.
“That’s great!” he said. “Now that’s a fish sandwich! Tell you what, you and I should go in business together and make these.”
Chico shrugged. He’d be out of a job in a couple of weeks once the boss’ daughter’s belly started to show, anyway. “Sure,” he said.
The sign read
For the fish-lover who hates the taste of fish!
And they were in business.
“I tell you what,” Lenny told Chico, “We’re gonna do some specialty sandwiches. Like the basic is a slice of bread between two slices of bread?”
“Well, we’re gonna do a double decker, and it’s gonna go like this,” and he slid his flat hands on top of one another to illustrate: “A slice of bread with a slice of bread on it, then another slice of bread to kinda separate the top half from the bottom half. Then on top of that, we’re gonna do a slice of bread and the whole thing’s gonna be topped off with a slice of bread. It can’t miss! We can even do a triple decker. That’ll be a slice of bread on top of a slice of bread --”
Chico grabbed Lenny’s wrist and said, “Dude, I get it. Seven slices of bread. Why don’t you just sell’em a whole loaf?”
“Well, that’ll be our take out order. Make your own Breadburgers at home! The kids are gonna love it. We’ll make millions!”
They didn’t end up making millions, but they did make dozens. Unfortunately it was over the span of the next three years and It was pretty much just Lenny who was buying them.
Chico knocked Lenny’s daughter up and left town.