[ WP ] Narrate the making of a sandwich in the most epic way possible .

Since Man was birthed into this world kicking and screaming, so was His primal hunger. His insatiable, unsatisfiable libido for conquest, for sustenance, for surviving one more day on this cold, unforgiving rock. His apex dominance was asserted over lesser species by consuming their very flesh and blood, by making Himself whole out of what made them whole. To hunt was Man's oldest routine, but day after day he'd devise newer, more creative ways to prepare the kill. 
 
 The Man laid a large mound of lesser flesh down under the fires that fueled His hunger. He watched as the blood drained from the lifeless meat, slowly dehydrating and browning from a cold pinkish hunk to a darker shade. Man took advantage of one of His greatest evolutional strengths, *opposable thumbs*, and with that He seamlessly butchered through the flesh with a calloused efficiency, slicing the hunk bit by bit, sinew by sinew into chunks with the blade held up by His opposable thumb. The smoke of starvation rose up to Man's nose, whetting his appetite more and more. 
 
 To assert His dominance further, Man adorned His kill with something that the lesser species could n't; agricultural garnishes. He hacked through the layers of the onion one by one, sautéing them up with the exact same cold efficiency as before. The smoke was overwhelming now, uncontrollably billowing through the air, signaling that it was finally time for Man to release His urges. 
 
 Man laid his kill in-between one sliced hunk of wheat. He laid the hunk down on a plate, and slid it across the table to share with His fellow Man, whom rewarded His kill with some rumpled up currency. 
 
 **'' Footlong cheesesteak sandwich comin' *right up*! `` ** 

