Dear Subway:

You helped Jared shed the pounds, and now maybe you should develop a sandwich that helps him shed whatever it is that makes me want to punch him in the piehole- er, I mean, Subway-hole.

Jared, first off let me say congratulations on the weight loss. I feel your pain – I was a pudgy little kid, and had I known Subway was all it took, I would have been asking my mom to take me down for a Cold Cut Combo a lot more often.

You can lose all the weight you want, but nothing seems to change the fact that you scare me. I see some sort of unidentifiable creepiness lingering behind those eyes. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know something’s going on in that footlong-munching cranium of yours. Tough childhood? Or maybe it was murder? Do you talk that way because you ate so many sandwiches that you have an uneasy stomach?

You just seem so uncomfortable. It’s in your body language, in the way you speak. When you talk, your mouth moves way too much. Watch yourself sometime. And if you haven’t yet, rent the movie “Supersize Me”. You’re in it, and you’re talking to a little girl and her mom after doing a presentation. You try your hardest to be a nice guy and hear about her struggling with weight loss, but I can read you like a book. You’re thinking “okay… relax… relax… she’s standing so close to me… don’t touch me.. she’s gonna touch me.. ew, don’t get so close, girl, Jared needs his space.”

Maybe that’s it. You’re one of those OCD people. You iron your socks. You need to shower every time somebody touches you. You use precisely 6 squares of toilet paper every time you go No. 2. You close doors 3 times every time you leave a room. Tinfoil on your windows. Big Brother is watching.

The more I see Jared, the more frightened I become of him. I’ve cut back on my Subway consumption drastically since the Jared campaign began. You know why? I heard that he’s watching you through those security cameras above the cash registers at all of the Subway restaurants.

He’s got his pants around his ankles and is building a footlong of his own, if you catch my drift.