Theodore Malcom of the Franks(Approved - Grelite)

The
He'll make you a sandwich... ANY sandwich. And they're so good, it's DANGEROUS!

Name: Theodore Malcom of the Franks
Title: Creator
Age: 23
Species: Hrakian
Gender: Male
Height: 1,87 m
Profession: Sandwich Maker


Theodore Malcom of the Franks his parents, Theo and Anna of the Franks, named him. After Theodore of the Franks, his grandfather, and Mel of the Franks, his grandmother. Everyone had of course called his grandfather Ted in every conversation, just because saying his full name had always brought chills down their spines. His father was Theo, and Theodore Malcom could therefore, they said, not be named Ted or Theo, for all the confusion it would bring, and they decided that they would have to go with either Theod, The, or make up a new name. They went with The. This was, of course, because in their native language this meant, “He who saw the light of day that one morning in mid-July and figured that the sun might actually not be a big hot flaming sphere that was more deadly than anything he could imagine, but actually a pretty sight indeed, so much even that his thoughts strayed off to...”, and so forth.

The got a very nice little puppy dog for his eleventh birthday, young, wide-eyed, yet to be ruined by the world. Which was exactly how The's parents saw The. The named his puppy A, which, in his native tongue meant, “He who rode to the top of the hill, saw that there were a bunch of trees and grass on the plains, shrugged, and returned home for supper, which was a bowl of soup, a very nice kind of soup, actually, the kind of soup that...”, and so forth. And The had a lot of fun playing with A. The taught A all kinds of tricks, the usual sit, down, fetch, but also things like run, speak, and disembowel. Together they had an awfully good time, and a lot of it, too much if you ask me, but who am I to judge?

After several years The turned fourteen, which meant, on his home planet that he could now legally go into space to experience Zero-G. This is why, for his sixteenth birthday, The got the marvellous book “Fifty-three more things to do in Zero Gravity”. Much to his surprise, one of them involved walking the dog in Zero Gravity, and so he did. A and The both very much enjoyed this and walking A in Zero-G became the normal thing to do. Getting more busy with school The's parents would walk A in the afternoon, that is, until one faithful Thursday afternoon when, by not considering that objects don't undergo friction in space, and therefore don't stop, The's father threw A's stick into an arsehole (a person whose natural tendency is to be a total jerk), who in his turn threw the stick into a wormhole, which flung the stick into a black hole. In an attempt for A not to obey the command fetch, The's father caught A on his cyberleash, whilst holding The's mother so that she would not drift off, with space being really big and all. Sadly for them, however, A was a very good dog, well trained by The to obey commands. A caught the stick.

The was torn. His family was gone, he had nothing to live for, and then he ran into a Sith Lord who trained him until he struck him down and became the Sith Lord hims-. No. He figured he had to get on in life, he could go sit or lie down and cry for some time and do nothing, be a total loser, or he could get on with life, stuff like this happened in Zero-G, it's not like the introduction paragraph to the book hadn't warned him. It said very specifically “WARNING: Don't underestimate your stick throwing, especially with arseholes around.” And The went on with life, getting himself qualified for Sandwich University at the end of his high school career.

Now, at this point, some may wonder: "Why sandwiches?", or maybe even, "Why University?". The same questions crossed The's mind when he had to make his decision. To answer those questions more closely we must look at the very origins of the Universe, and in fact, the Multiverse. Before space and time there was nothing, not a single particle or attosecond, just an infinite void. This is referred to in scientific terms as "The Great Hunger". A vast nothingness of nothing, non-existent and never occurring. All this void could do is demand something to still its hunger, a call out for a sandwich. This is more widely known as the "Big Bang".

Like a thunderous smack on an enormous table, the demand called forth matter, time, and other stuffs too, startled, stirred into existence by the hunger. And all these newly created everythings formed a giant sandwich, which is now known as the Multiverse. As billions of years passed several events not too different from each other took place all across the Multiverse as pieces of this sandwich sandwiched together into tiny sandwiches which could multiply themselves and feed on other sandwiches. Life was born.

As life spread onto land (or not) and evolved intelligence (or not), fewer kept in touch with their inner sandwich. Having lost this natural sense of balance and tasty deliciousness, wars broke out all across the Multiverse. Yet the few who could still contact their inner sandwich, known as "Creators", drew power from all that was around them to construct tools of peace and connectedness. Tools that were created from all different things around them; fire, water, air, ground, plants, animals, and the very depths of time its self. The Creators named these tools "Sandwiches", a word used in every language around the Multiverse, in every culture, its meaning being the very meaning of life.

Unknowingly, The was a Creator, being able to feel what someone truly craved, and naturally knew what ingredients fit the taste, and use this to dig deeply into the soul of the Multiverse, or it was the other way around; digging into the Multiverse to see what someone craved, scientists weren't exactly sure. The first took notice of this skill when he couldn't afford a caterer at his parents' and dog's funeral and had to make sandwiches for all those attending. The ceremony was quite awkward as everyone seemed to look so pleased with themselves as The's parents were lowered into their graves. Throughout the next year several other situations popped up where The "sandwiched" his way out of or into a situation.

The Creators at the Sandwich University soon caught wind of The. They were old and wise men whose heads seemed to be stuck upside-down, though their faces weren't. With a big, shiny, round chin on top, and long, pointy, grey hairdo at the bottom, they seemed all exactly alike, was it not that each had their own unique taste for a specific kind of glasses, but they were all in contact with their inner sandwich, and felt the vibrations of the Multiverse through every being. Appearing at The's doorstep they'd stubbornly stick their feet in the doorway until The finally gave in and signed up for the course. At the University he learned to make the finest of Sandwiches around and based everything he did on the Prophecy of the Sandwich Maker, which went something like this:

Mostly Harmless, chapter 13 wrote:

There is an art to the business of making sandwiches which it is given to few ever to find the time to explore in depth. It is a simple task, but the opportunities for satisfaction are many and profound: choosing the right bread for instance. The Sandwich Maker had spent many months in daily consultation and experiment with Grarp the baker and eventually they had between them created a loaf of exactly the consistency that was dense enough to slice thinly and neatly, while still being light, moist and having that fine nutty flavour which best enhanced the savour of roast (...) flesh.

There was also the geometry of the slice to be refined: the precise relationships between the width and height of the slice and also its thickness which would give the proper sense of bulk and weight to the finished sandwich: here again, lightness was a virtue, but so too were firmness, generosity and that promise of succulence and savour that is the hallmark of a truly intense sandwich experience.

The proper tools, of course, were crucial, and many were the days that the Sandwich Maker, when not engaged with the Baker at his oven, would spend with Strinder the Tool Maker, weighing and balancing knives, taking them to the forge and back again. Suppleness, strength, keenness of edge, length and balance were all enthusiastically debated, theories put forward, tested, refined, and many was the evening when the Sandwich Maker and the Tool Maker could be seen silhouetted against the light of the setting sun and the Tool Maker's forge making slow sweeping movements through the air trying one knife after another, comparing the weight of this one with the balance of another, the suppleness of a third and the handle binding of a fourth.

Three knives altogether were required. First there was the knife for the slicing of the bread: a firm, authoritative blade which imposed a clear and defining will on a loaf. Then there was the butter-spreading knife, which was a whippy little number but still with a firm backbone to it. Early versions had been a little too whippy, but now the combination of flexibility with a core of strength was exactly right to achieve the maximum smoothness and grace of spread.

The chief amongst the knives, of course, was the carving knife. This was the knife that would not merely impose its will on the medium through which it moved, as did the bread knife; it must work with it, be guided by the grain of the meat, to achieve slices of the most exquisite consistency and translucency, that would slide away in filmy folds from the main hunk of meat. The Sandwich Maker would then flip each sheet with a smooth flick of the wrist on to the beautifully proportioned lower bread slice, trim it with four deft strokes and then at last perform the magic that the children of the village so longed to gather round and watch with rapt attention and wonder. With just four more dexterous flips of the knife he would assemble the trimmings into a perfectly fitting jigsaw of pieces on top of the primary slice. For every sandwich the size and shape of the trimmings were different, but the Sandwich Maker would always effortlessly and without hesitation assemble them into a pattern which fitted perfectly. A second layer of meat and a second layer of trimmings, and the main act of creation would be accomplished.

The Sandwich Maker would pass what he had made to his assistant who would then add a few slices of newcumber and fladish and a touch of splagberry sauce, and then apply the topmost layer of bread and cut the sandwich with a fourth and altogether plainer knife. It was not that these were not also skilful operations, but they were lesser skills to be performed by a dedicated apprentice who would one day, when the Sandwich Maker finally laid down his tools, take over from him. It was an exalted position and that apprentice, Drimple, was the envy of his fellows. There were those in the village who were happy chopping wood, those who were content carrying water, but to be the Sandwich Maker was very heaven.

And so the Sandwich Maker sang as he worked.

This helped The greatly in his course studies, and he enjoyed the course material (obviously). He learned the sandwich song, the Way of the Three Knives, bread studies, butter studies, beef studies, and so forth. The learned to control his Creator's sight to gain deeper insight into the structures of everything around him, being able to deconstruct and decode anything he'd see, taste, hear, feel, or smell. He was made an apprentice under the noble Françis “Bacon” Chefsky, a man so well-trained in the art he could make a sandwich whilst drowning. Sadly, this was proved once, but that was long after The learned from Françis the Sandwich Making Ways.

Along the course of his studies, The got to meet a very promising student from his year. His name was Arthur, and he had memorized the ancient prophecy and theory, citing it whenever he could. For him sandwiches were everything, and anyone trying to convince Arthur sandwiches were less than the most important thing in the Universe, somehow ended up missing. Of course Arthur was not responsible for this, The had thought, he knew Arthur as a nice kid with a lot of potential.

For his final exam, The designed the Feraxian sandwich with mustard, an extraordinary sandwich that brought water to the mouths of all those who dared settle their gaze upon it. With it, The even received the respect of Arthur, who had graduated a year earlier and tasted the sandwich right before heading off to Corellia. The left the drowned room in satisfaction and received the Graduatory Sandwich Trolley. His life's work, a tool to make any Tool, equipped with the best of technologies to access all of the Multiverse. And he set off to Tatooine to start up his business. Surely such a “hive of scum and villainy” could use some sandwiches?

The found the people on Tatooine to be very open minded, they had plenty of ideas of what they'd like on their sandwiches. By far the most popular request was a Jawa-Tusken sandwich; a sandwich with Jawa meat and Sandpeople flesh. Soon The had to have his "Jawa GRNDR 3000" installed on his trolley to keep up with the demand. It became the "trend of the sand" on Tatooine. Even Jawas asked him to come by their sandcrawlers personally, so they could have some of these highly coveted sandwiches. Sadly The could never reach the remote locations the Jawas wanted to meet at. Not that it mattered much, because the Jawas couldn't stay sad long before being inserted into the Jawa GRNDR 3000, which was part of the reason The never got to meet them..

A few years later Arthur got a message from Corellia informing him of the death of Arthur, found dead in an ally, his sandwich knives covered in blood. The had rushed to Corellia and paid his respects at the funeral, where Arthur was sandwiched by ground, to become one with the Multiverse. After that he went back into the Galaxy, his services were needed elsewhere...