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BRET BIELEMA MAKES YOU A SANDWICH

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AND YOU'D BETTER EAT IT IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU

ME: Boy, it's almost lunchtime. I'm awfully hungry - I was running late, so I skipped breakfast this morning. Are you hungry?

YOU: Yeah, I could eat, what are you thinking?

ME: Hey, look, I think that place across the street is new - looks like a sandwich shop? Let's check it out!

[we step inside the small storefront; there is no one inside]

ME: Huh, well, that's odd. I wonder if-

[a loud grumble can be heard from behind the counter]

YOU: [peering over the counter] oh my god, there's a man asleep down here! At least, I think he's asleep, is he breath-

BRET BIELEMA, springing to his feet: WHO WANTS A GODDAMNED SANDWICH

ME: AAAAHH

YOU: AAAAHH

BRET: AAAAHH

US: WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING TOO

BRET: SEEMED FUN

ME: Well, I'm sorry for waking you, I think we should probably just go, it seems that-

BRET: Shut your damn yap and order a sandwich. Best in town. Menu's up there. [gestures to wall]

YOU: Oh, look, the sandwiches all have clever themed names, there's the Knuckle Sandwich -

BRET: Not a clever name.

YOU: Well now I'm afraid to ask about the "Shit Sandwich".

BRET: Hugh Freeze loved it.

ME: [cautiously] Maybe I'll just have a turkey and swiss.

BRET: [nods, pulls a live turkey out from under the counter]

ME: NEVERMIND I DON'T WANT TURKEY

BRET: I thought you hippies liked farm-to-table crap. Anyways, you're not gonna save that turkey. He owes me money.

US: [stunned silence]

BRET: Turkeys are shit card players.

YOU: Do you have any vegetarian options?

BRET: Yeah, get the hell out or shut the hell up.

ME: How about just a grilled cheese? Do you have a grilled cheese?

BRET: I make a superb one. It's a blend of sharp cheddar, Gruyere, provolone and aged Gouda that we smoke in our on-site smokehouse.

ME: Wow, that sounds great.

BRET: It's served on hardtack. It'll break your teeth.

ME: This took a dramatic swing.

BRET: Sort of my thing. Here, have a glass of wine, on the house. It's a lovely 2006 Oregon pinot noir.

YOU: [sipping] lot of broken glass in here

BRET: Wine shop owed me money, too. Place had guard dogs. [he holds up his arm, which bears clear bite marks that do not appear to be from a dog]

ME: Anyways, what's your endgame here? You're a highly-paid SEC football coach, and it's the middle of the season. Why are you suddenly trying to run a sandwich shop - especially when most restaurants fail within the first year? It just seems like an odd left turn for you, Coach.

BRET: Oh, I'm just trying to put the sandwich shop across the street out of business.

ME: why

BRET: [shrugs]

ME: well, okay, motivation aside, how do you expect to drive an apparently thriving and popular establishment out of business when you're serving your smaller customer base broken glass, 18th-century sea rations, and hand-slaughtered poultry?

BRET: [gestures to boiler he's clearly modified by hand] when that thing goes it's gonna level the block

YOU: [through mouthful of turkey sandwich] is that an autographed picture of Gary Patterson?

BRET: I figured I'd already put my signature on his season, it was only fair.