Subperb

As I departed from my parent's sub-urban sanctuary this morning every sub-atomic particle in my body oozed desire. In the nooks and crannies of my sub-conscious lurked a desperate need for sub-stancial sustenance. My heart cried for the hole in my stomach. On-boarded my southbound shuttle I attempted to banish my thoughts to the sub-liminal. Despite sound efforts, my mid-morning mussing would not be sub-dued. My mind was locked.
The comfort of my desk provides the opportunity for a second effort. I dove into my work, hoping to sub-merge my cravings. Still no luck. Two strikes. Sub-sequently, the next several hours were a neurotic collection of sub-par work. By 11:30 my hankering had so greatly sub-tracted from dictated duties that I began to distract. It began with myself, spreading like the common cold to those around me, I sub-jected coworkers to a steady stream of mindless amusement and irksome distractions. As 11:50 approached, coworkers' patients and my wits were both wearing thin. After a couple tense minutes, at 11:53, I finally sub-mitted. Franticly I prodded the elevator's downward arrow. I knew the solution and that no sub-stitute would suffice. An anxious 9-1-1 call from the lobby of the Rainier Tower at 11:57 reported a rogue free-safety on a war path for an unseen quarterback.* I descended upon LoPriore Bros. Pasta Bar hot headed in a cold sweat. An order dribbled out of my frothing mouth. The man behind the counter knew just what to sub-scribe for such droopy-brained madness. Sub-lime meatballs zapped stress and made suffering sub-side; and if you haven't followed the sub-tle sub-text, I will tell you now, I had a sub for lunch.

*My lawyer tells me this could have been anybody.