Peace be upon you, brothers and sisters. I write today not as a holy man, but as a humble vessel tormented by temptation. It began, as most sins do, with a scent on the wind—like manna from heaven, but with savory undertones.
Though I have vowed obedientia, paupertas, and castitas unto our Lord, I now find myself beset by a most carnal longing for a Chef Mike’s Sub Sandwich with extra spicy mayo. I have fasted, I have prayed, I have slapped mine own wrist with a ruler (gently, for I am but flesh). Yet, still the craving persists.
I beseech thee, guide my path as my guardian angel might, and deliver me not from temptation, but unto the sanctified doors of Chef Mike’s Sub Shop. Amen.
