My name: Dillon Chauhan. It was a long day at Potbelly Sandwiches (where I had worked for 2 years now) and I was busy making my 157th turkey sandwich of the day, when Mr. Bigworth approached me.
"Welcome to Potbelly, how can I help you?" I asked.
"Your going to do exactly what I say, and if you try to run or search for help I put a bullet through your brain, ok?"
My nervous farts started to kick in.
Mr. Bigworth, who's name I didn't learn until I saw it on his credit card, asked me to first make him a Tuna Salad sandwich. I tried my best to make a good sandwich, but it was hard when my hands were so shaky. After I made him the sandwich, and he swiped his card (which I assumed was a fake) he instructed me to go to the backroom, take off my uniform, and sneak out the side door. From there, he grabbed my arm and put it behind my back, unlocked the door to his black Buick Lacrosse, and threw me in the backseat. He put a bag over my head, which was drenched in sweat within a minute. He told me that I was now his sandwich slave. I would not be paid, but for every 6 sandwiches that I made for him, I would get a sandwich to myself.
When we got to Mr. Bigworth's house, I was amazed how big it was. I expected some small little shack, because I figured his desire for sandwiches was due to a low income job, or unemployment. He showed me around the house a little bit, and then brought me to the laundry room. He pointed down at a metal kennel and said "that's your bed, Dillon." The first night was the worst. I couldn't sleep in that kennel, and had the worst nightmare in which I was a can of mayonnaise, and Mr. Bigworth was spreading me onto his slice of bread. It was really weird.
On the third day in the Bigworth house, I tried to escape. Mr. Bigworth left the house to go buy some more rye bread, and it was my perfect opportunity to try to leave. I took off my apron, and ran out of the kitchen towards the front door. However, just as I almost reached the door, I heard the Buick car coming back into the driveway. Bigworth must have forgotten his wallet, or something. I frantically tried to run back into the kitchen, but heard the garage door open and got nervous. I had no idea what to do, so I tried to hide under the floor rug that was in Bigworth's living room. He clearly knew I was there, because he picked up one of his chairs and started beating me under the rug.
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