Ham Sandwich Birthday Bus

The ham bus was fresh and its cargo was meat.

Mmm… birthday meat…

Sesame seeds confettied the ground from the bun roof.
Mayonnaise clouded the windows and a single leaf of lettuce floated into the soggy distance like a used but delicious handkerchief.
The meat-borne passengers slid between the meat slices, their hair sticky with the honey glaze that was their birthday wish.

The conductor, actually an old woman, wore a pig mask.
Behind her, an old man, actually a pig, wore a conductor mask.
Each of them was smoking a birthday candle.
The pig-conductor’s was a trick relighting candle.
He oinked through his moustache, eternally high off of birthday.

“This little piggy,” the passengers all yell.
“Come,” says the conductor-pig.
“Everyone has a birthday, and today yours comes on tomato wheels and wrapped in a ribbon of cheese.
Step aboard–your home, your purpose, they all lie squealing in the folds of ham.”