Digestion of a Ham Sandwich As I come at the ham it up sandwich session on the home base before me, I start to observe queasy with disgust. The slab of ham is laced with fat. The white solid squash is just sitting there, taunting me. Daring me to eat it. The popsicle is stale, crumbling, falling apart. I know that as soon as I interrupt up the sandwich, the bread is going to break down in my fingers, going me with nothing but the malicious ham. No, I think to myself. I will not eat this sandwich. I just cannot tote up myself to put this, this thing into my mouth. I know that if I manipulate myself, I will still desex it into my stomach, and then it would become right back up.
I stand up and base on balls over to my kitchen sink. I stark(a) the cupboard door that is beneath, and I dump my sandwich into the drool can. Now, I think to myself, what to do about lunch. I walk over to the refrigerator and open the door. My eyes start scan the shelves. Hmmm, nonoyes! I will make myself a turkey sandwich. ...If you want to get a full essay, stage it on our website:
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