Hot Apollo

Toronto's Shiniest Rock-and-Roll Band

The Shape of the Sandwich Probably Wasn't Intentionally Phallic

This week’s story of Hot Apollo’s adventures on the streets gets more ridiculous in stages.


It was on this recent Thursday evening when my cohort and I took it upon ourselves to grace the Annex with our glorious tunes once again. It wasn’t the busiest time of day, but the weather was nice enough to compel a fair amount of people to repeatedly place their feet upon the pavement in a kind of stepping motion.


Foot traffic wasn’t great, which meant that our time wasn’t especially lucrative, but we were having a great time, and the response was alright. One particular guy threw a five-dollar bill in the case along with a sandwich, which seemed destined to be the night’s most salient source of amusement. I gave the sandwich man the Hot Apollo card as he left, for it is my custom to do so whenever a person expresses interest in our music.

Shortly before we finished, however, I received a text message from an unknown number. It said, “excellent blt. from subway. bi- curious first time but must have another female or multiple couples”. Apparently, the giving of the sandwich was an act of courtship. Furthermore, what had seemed to be a five-dollar bill was revealed to be pair of notes of the same denomination.

Apart from a slight bit of trepidation from my guitarist, who vaguely suspected that the sandwich might be drugged, the whole thing seemed like a hilarious example of good times, and my friend’s hunger won out in the end anyway.

On the following afternoon, I received an unidentified call from a man who immediately asked for my name. When I told him, he said that he didn’t recognise it, adding that he’d made the call because he’d found my number on his phone. Then he hung up. I was momentarily puzzled until I realised that it was the same number from which the previous night’s text had originated. Unsolicited propositions that involve sandwiches are droll enough, but I’m inclined to feel that it’s even funnier somehow when the latently bisexual drunkard who initiates the thing doesn’t remember any of it on the following day.

But now I just want to know whether he’d remember if we’d gone through with it.

Copyright © 2011, Jaymes Buckman and David Aaron Cohen. All rights reserved. In a good way.