I Am The Georgia O’Keeffe of Arby’s Roast Beef Sandwiches
Buckle the f*** in.
Hello, welcome to Arby’s. I don’t mind telling you that you’re in for a real treat since I am the Georgia O’Keeffe of hot, moist, Arby’s roast beef sandwiches — hell yeah, “Mother of American Modernism” Georgia O’Keeffe. I realize that this may come off as a bit of a brag, but, in the words of O’Keeffe herself, “It ain’t braggin’ if it’s true.”
What? No, I’m pretty sure that it was Georgia O’Keeffe who said that.
Anyway, you’re not from around here, so let me walk you through our menu. Our most popular sandwich, of course, is our Roast Beef Classic. A lot of people have cited this sandwich, with its intricately folded beef between two warm sesame seed buns as some sort of visual representation of feminine strength. Of course, they say that! “They” are art critics …or food critics. Listen, the point is that I work hard to make each sandwich special, making sure that the experience of eating at this Arby’s, across from Taggart’s Tires, beside the Highway 85 off-ramp, unfolds on the human tongue as an expression of not just flavor but of unchecked eroticism.
Okay, I can see that you’re skeptical, and that’s okay. O’Keeffe herself wasn’t insulated from skeptics who saw her paintings of oversized flowers as simple “still-lifes,” just as I struggle constantly against the perception that our popular Beef ‘N Cheddar is “just a sandwich” and not a life-changing meal that both nourishes the body, as well as the soul.
Have you ever had our Beef ‘N Cheddar? Well then, in the words of Georgia O’Keeffe after she won the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1977, “Buckle the fuck in, Kemosabe.” You’re in luck because we’re having a Two-For-Two-Dollar special. It’s also worth noting that if you decide to make those sandwiches a meal, they come with your choice of fountain drink and our world-renowned seasoned curly fries.
Are you serious?! You’ve never had our seasoned curly fries before?
That’s it. I’m giving you my employee discount. You have to try these fries. Not only are they crispy on the outside and warm on the inside, but they also evoke the spirit of the American Southwest.
Of course they do! Check the color-palette, chief! Those reds and rusty browns are the spitting image of O’Keeffe’s work in Taos, New Mexico.
They also curl inward on themselves, like the horns on a sun-bleached ram skull or like O’Keeffe’s “The Lawrence Tree”, winding up from the hard unforgiving ground of the American desert. Cool? Cool.
I know that this seems like a lot of food, but I’m going to recommend something else and I really need you to trust me. Two words. Cherry. Turnovers.
Now listen, our turnovers are a perfect consistency, flakey and buttery on the outside but inside? A womb of cherries. Tart and warm, bursting with flavor and color. What’s that? Listen, if you have a better way to describe them, I am all ears, pal. I fold these vulvian pleasure-pouches every shift with my own artist’s hands, taking care that they not only taste delicious but remind every customer of home.
And by home, I, of course, am referring to the home from which we all are born. That’s right, the very human chasm that —
— Wait! Where are you going? C’mon, don’t go to McDonald’s! They don’t care about artistry. They’re the Warhol’s of food — it’s assembly-line bullshit! Fine! You know what? I don’t want my hand-crafted seasoned meats, pomme frites, and pastries anywhere near your unrefined face-slit.
In the words of painter Georgia O’Keeffe, “Eat shit!”
