P.D. Johnson's Dog Day Deli

Once more from Preston Center, I bring you news of fine cuisine and wacky atmosphere. This time, I'm reporting live from P.D. Johnson's, which believe it or not is located catty-corner to Wang's Chinese food (which should, in turn, be adjacent to both Woody's Lumberyard and Big Willy's Caulking Supplies). Sharing a wall with a 24 hour fitness, this little deli is a beacon of lunch salvation in a sea of Chipotle burritorias and Sonic Burgererias. Upon entering you are enveloped in a soothing wave of semi-titillating "Johnson" references and clever signs that may or may not be authentic (For example, the "Now Hiring: No Irish" rusted tin sign...ah, if only today's prejudices could be so well-founded). Although faced with several Cold Johnson, Hot Johnson, and Nearly-Foot-Long options, I quickly narrowed it down to either a "Heavy D," a corned beef variety with a curiously named 007 sauce, or "The Bone," which included a luxurious combination of cranberry sauce and cream cheese.
Now, something to consider when you inevitably end up choosing to eat at P.D. Johnson's is the entertainment. Pinned to the walls are several articles from The Onion, a brutally honest news source. Piled on the counter are practically current magazines for every interest and a pile of crossword puzzles copied out of recent newspapers (oh 47 down, why do you haunt me still?). I feel as though the needs of my intellect are as carefully considered at Johnson's as the needs of my belly.
Speaking of belly needs, the pot of gold at the end of this lunchmeat rainbow is filled with P.D. Johnson's brownies. Oh god. Give me a moment to reflect...
The brownies have gradually improved over time, becoming more and more undercooked (less and less cooked??) until they evolved into their current glory: an entirely uncooked puddle of brownie batter poured onto a square of saran wrap. This soupy nectar is then lovingly wrapped and molded into a rectangular prism resembling something more solid. This is not only efficient for the time-hoarding bigwigs at P.D.'s, but beneficial to today's learned (and startlingly sexy) brownie consumers --such as myself.
Major Caveat: If you order water, they charge you 23 cents for "cup and ice" even if you assure those bastards that you hate ice.
Related Bonus: The tap water charge absolutely eliminates the nasty guilt feeling usually associated with filling your "water" cup with Sierra Mist. Thesis Statement: Being a female patron of P.D. Johnson's doesn't get you free water, but it sure does make you feel uncomfortable while ordering up a 6 inch Bone.