Unbeknownst to Man, Sandwich Choice of Vital Global Importance

MISSISSIPPI—His gaze flitting between brightly-lit refrigerator sections, 46-year-old taxidermist Vincent Pitchfork is blissfully unaware of the critical effect his lunch decision will have on the future of the human race, sources have confirmed.

“He's been in here for nearly fifteen minutes and he still hasn't picked a filling”, says the nameless staff member manning the Bakery World outlet. “Everyone's stopped moving because we don't want to spook him.” He gestures towards the eerily quiet store and the deserted wilderness lying outside the automatic doors. “Who wants to be the guy who doomed our species to extinction because he made an unappetising noise and put Vinny there off his food?”

Despite his parents always knowing of his pivotal role in history, Pitchfork has always believed that his life is relatively unimportant. He thought that his bodyguard detail was a sign of his parents' overprotectiveness, and was led to believe that he needed a routine operation to remove his appendix when in fact he was having his bones replaced with super strong metal to make him more durable. “We just couldn't let him walk around with regular bones, not with his poor coordination and navigation skills. He would have been dead within minutes”, his mother Joan explains.

Since before his birth, his parents were members of a society known as the Order of the Lunch, consisting of some powerful people familiar with the ancient prophecy that foretells his actions either heralding or preventing the apocalypse. Together they kept a close eye on his early life and took subtle action to ensure that he reached this point. Julian Forrester, their High Chief and American ambassador, elaborates: “He actually failed most of his taxidermy exams, and pretty badly, too, but we persuaded the board to give him a pass. I can only imagine what might have happened had he become an accountant.”

Should Pitchfork make the wrong choice, the world will descend into chaos and bloodshed closely resembling the biblical end of days. Nevertheless, according to Forrester, he cannot be made aware of the magnitude of his dilemma. “If he knows that it matters what he picks, he'll panic and maybe make the wrong choice. If he grabs meatballs, for instance, well ...” He makes a "boom" noise.

”What to pick, what to pick”, Pitchfork says to himself. “I do love tuna, but I had tuna last night. Maybe something spicy? But what if it's too spicy? I don't want to take that risk.”