To the great and ever-lasting shame of our dear CatScratchReader community, I must bear witness to the most criminally under-reported fact from the opening weekend of the Carolina Panthers training camp in Spartanburg, South Carolina. On the afternoon of Saturday, July the 27th, Mr. Dator, Mr. Smith, my roommate, and my self sat ourselves down at the fine eating establishment of our member PeteyPantera, Monsters Subs. There we were allowed to experience the most glorious stuffing of meats between two buns that any of us had ever had. This sub was called the Kraken. I had hopes, walking into the shop, that the sandwich could live up to the mythical beast we hold so near and dear to our hearts. I have hopes, having walked out of the shop, that the myth can live up to the reputation of the sandwich.
I can hear your protests now:
"Surely you jest, TerribleMetaphorGuy. South Carolina cannot have perfected the art of sandwichery. No, South Carolina is a state for seafood and college sports reputations that are more hot air than balloon."
This is the attitude that met the coverage this sandwich has already received on this site (A tweet, a mention in a post, and perhaps a few comments). This is the attitude that has led to you, dear readers, ignoring the sandwich like so many jars of mayonnaise left to grow hair in the sun in search of news about such petty things as wide receivers and offensive tackles. This sandwich does more than make old men jealous over their follicular deficiencies. Pay attention, and I shall attempt to impart an understanding of the sandwich you must eat if you ever make your pilgrimage to Spartanburg.
Every school has that one utility closet, janitor's office, or broom cupboard that is shrouded in just a little bit of mystery. If ever something is needed it can probably be found in that place, be its intention legitimate or illicit. There are brooms and mops beyond count for jousting and occasionally cleaning. There are cleaning fluids and solutions from eras past that can dissolve any stain or make or any colored flame. There are spare chairs for overcrowded classrooms and pillow fort construction alike. If you look hard enough in the back you are likely to find musty smelling old men sitting in the light of a naked bulb sitting down to their lunchtime card game or monthly Playgirl subscription. And just when you think there are no more secrets this illustrious-yet-illusive place could hide, you look behind the water-heater in the back corner to find two seniors spicing up their lives. You, of course, are too young to have thought of or even used this secret yet for yourself, but oh, the ideas!, oh, the possibilities! Not even the musty old men with their monthly subscriptions spun your head like that discovery.
In short, it really is the perfect kind of Narnia. An enjoyably spicy, fatty, meaty Narnia that would make Aslan's gall bladder weep. If Narnia is a story about children and fantasy, then the Kraken sub is meat-made-art that is about covering those children in the sauce of their dreams and savoring them before washing them out of your mouth with a cold beer and football.
Such a metaphor draws some religious connotations, given the metaphorical nature of C.S. Lewis' work. Lest you think such connotations are hyperbole and altogether too lofty for a mere sandwich, I shall drop the proverbial mic here with two words: