Angle was on a mission. A mission of paramount importance. A mission…to find the perfect sandwich.
He had been studying the culinary arts, or rather, the limited options available in their flat world's sole deli, for weeks. He had analyzed every ingredient, calculated every possible combination, and developed a complex algorithm to determine the optimal sandwich experience.
"Phase One: Ingredient Selection," he muttered, standing before the deli counter. He meticulously examined the options: a square of cheese, a rectangle of salami, and a triangle of lettuce. The bread, of course, was a basic line.
The deli owner, a weary-looking stick figure with a perpetually downturned mouth, watched him with growing suspicion.
"Can I help you, son?" he grumbled.
"I am currently optimizing my sandwich order based on a complex algorithm I have developed," Angle explained. "Please refrain from interrupting the data acquisition process."
The deli owner sighed. "Just pick a sandwich, kid."
Angle ignored him. "Variables: Cheese density, salami surface area, lettuce angularity. Constraints: Budgetary limitations, time constraints, existential dread."
He spent the next ten minutes meticulously measuring each ingredient with a tiny ruler, scribbling notes on a notepad, and occasionally muttering equations under his breath.
Finally, he arrived at a conclusion. "Optimal sandwich configuration: One square of cheese, strategically positioned at a forty-five degree angle to maximize flavor distribution; two rectangles of salami, layered in a staggered formation to enhance structural integrity; and a single triangle of lettuce, placed centrally to provide a burst of refreshing, geometrically pleasing crunch."
The deli owner stared at him. "You want…cheese, salami, and lettuce?"
"Precisely! But not just any cheese, salami, and lettuce! Specifically arranged and optimized to achieve peak sandwich efficiency!"
The deli owner shrugged and slapped the ingredients between two slices of bread. "That'll be two lines."
Angle paid him and took his "optimized" sandwich to a nearby bench. He carefully unwrapped it, examining his creation with a critical eye.
"Flawless," he declared, preparing to take his first bite.
Just then, a flock of paper airplanes, launched by some mischievous stick figure children, swooped down from above. One of them collided with Angle's sandwich, sending cheese, salami, and lettuce flying.
Angle stared in horror at the wreckage of his perfect sandwich. His algorithm had failed him. All his calculations, all his meticulous planning, had been undone by a random act of…aviation.
He slumped onto the bench, feeling utterly defeated. What was the point of optimizing anything, he wondered, if chaos could strike at any moment?
He looked around. A group of stick figures were playing hopscotch, their laughter echoing in the air. Curve was meticulously decorating a nearby flower with tiny glitter. Line was sketching a series of straight lines in the sand, lost in his own world.
And then, something unexpected happened. One of the children, noticing Angle's distress, ran over and offered him a discarded piece of chocolate. "Here you go," the child said. "It's not a sandwich, but it's still good."
Angle took the chocolate, surprised by the simple act of kindness. He took a bite. It wasn't optimized, it wasn't geometrically pleasing, and it certainly wasn't part of his algorithm. But it was…delicious.
He smiled, a genuine smile that reached his nonexistent eyes. Maybe, he thought, some things couldn't be calculated. Maybe, sometimes, the best things in life were the unexpected, the unplanned, the…perfectly imperfect.
He still planned to find the perfect sandwich. But from now on, he would leave a little room for chaos. Just in case.