Hi there. I'm just a pulled pork sandwich sitting on the counter here in the office. I know it's morning time and one wouldn't expect to see a pulled pork sandwich hanging around a little half-kitchen. But alas, here I am.

Also, I'm a little embarrassed to say that I'm naked. I mean I have a bun, but for those of us in the pulled pork community, going into public sans sauce is a bit of a taboo. Usually I'd be wrapped in a layer of pureed tomatoes and spices. But today it seems that I'm just a naked pulled pork sandwich spending my morning on a counter in a Sioux Falls office.

I'm not sure what I'm doing here. Heck, I'm not sure I know how I got here. I've heard rumor that this spot is often reserved for various baked goods that show up at this office. Was I found out on the street? Did some good samaritan rescue me from some sandwich mill? Was I brought here in the hopes that a kind-hearted soul would adopt me like a puppy in the K-Mart parking lot?

Photo: Ben Kuhns

What my purpose in life? I do know that I come from a long line of pork products. In fact I have an uncle that is the bacon in a bacon wrapped filet mignon at a very fancy restaurant. He's come along way from his roots as scrapple in a Pennsylvania diner. My one cousin thinks he's all famous now that he was featured on Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives. 'Hey Carl, you can't get drunk and pass-out in a bowl of sweet tea and call it marinating!'

My grandfather was a sausage. It may have been a simple living, but he was encased in a tradition that has links all the way to the back of the kitchen. That's nothing like my brother-in-law ribs. He just sits in a hot-box all day 'smoking.' Yea I know! He calls that a job. He's always talking about how he was in that box so long he's 'falling of the bone.' Sorry I don't speak smoker-slang Cody, But if that's the way you want to live your life.

So, here I am. A naked pulled pork sandwich on a counter in an office on a Tuesday morning. A sandwich without a past facing an unknown future. Kind of like a blank slate. I can be anything I want. Even a superhero! Yes, keeping an eye out for evil doers from my perch high up on this counter. If that criminal has a gluten allergy then my bun will be my secret weapon.

Alright, I'll need a name. How about Super Pulled Pork Sandwich? No, too wordy. Maybe Super Porker! No, that sounds like something else. Oh, I got it, The Sloppy Joe! No, that'd just cause confusion. Wait! Yes, I shall be the Bar-B-Qer!

The Bar-B-Qer! Patrolling the cubicles of this office space with my buns of steel, that are made out of bread. So, bad guys with gluten allergies look out, the Bar-B-Qer is on the case!

Photo: Ben Kuhns

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