It’s approaching six o’clock and the Earl of Sandwich is
holding a strong hand. He’s been at the card table since noon, but things have
not been going his way; already he’s lost a fancy timepiece, a ship, some
silver candlesticks and an entire flock of sheep. He’s starving but can’t
afford to stop playing to eat.
The rest of the table has folded, and only his nemesis
remains: the Earl of Bunwich, who rather fancies getting his paws on the jewels
his mistress wears, and for that matter, also his mistress’s jewels, which even
now threaten to spill from her décolleté. His stomach rumbles loudly, prompting
Sandwich to remark that he’s a bit peckish.
In order to show off, Bunwich calls his servant over and
asks him to bring him some food. The servant hesitates; this is a highly
unusual task. What shall he bring? Bunwich leans back in his chair and with
growing flourish requests a bun, cut in half, with some loose ground meat, a
pickle, some green beans, a tomato and a slice of cheese. The servant looks
alarmed. Insert the top half of the bun halfway, between the pickle and beans,
Bunwich adds, only make it upside down.
Not to be outdone, Sandwich calls his servant over and asks
for a sandwich. A sandwich, your honor? the boy replies, puzzled. That’s what I
said, the Earl replies.
I bet everything I own that my dinner will be imitated for generations to come, offers the Earl of Bunwich, certain his opponent is bluffing.
Off speeds the boy. When he returns, he carries with him a
piece of ham stuffed between two slices of bread. Bunwich laughs.
Sandwich merely eats, with his hands. Bunwich looks at the plate upon which
his dinner sits. He has forgotten to ask for a knife and fork, and has no idea how to bring the food to his mouth. A long moment passes as dust motes float in the air in the
candlelight.
Bring me one of those things Sandwich has, calls someone from another table. Bunwich stops smiling.
I fold, he sighs.
Family Dinners in a Hurry, Golden Press, 1970