And this story is called "The Little Sandwich That Got a Guilt Complex Because He Was the Sole Survivor of a Horrible Bus Crash."
Once there was a little sandwich sitting on the seat of a bus bouncing up and down. A sweet little sandwich made of roasted peppers and lettuce and a few other things on sprouty grain bread with a modicum of mustard and no other condiments to speak of. And the bus was bouncing along until it came upon another bus coming around the curb in the opposite direction. And the two buses collided and smashed and crashed and rolled down the hill and blew up into a beautiful fiery explosion. But just before this happened, the little sandwich was hurled out the window when the bus went over a bump and thus was spared the horrible fate that befell all the rest of the pa**engers on both buses, not to mention the happy family of five that was living in the house that the two buses crashed into just before they exploded, burning exploding and burning everybody involved to d**h, including the happy family that had been happily sleeping, because this all happened at night, and also many sleeping animals were also k**ed.
The sandwich sat by the side of the road, wondering why none of the fire trucks and ambulances that came rushing to the scene didn't run him over, and over time, the little sandwich developed a terrible guilt complex that rendered him inedible, as well as incapable of enjoying any kind of meaningful existence.
And nothing else happened
The end