Tale of the Midnight Munchies
Scott had better nights in bed. The ceiling of his dingy New York City apartment had cracked paint which kept him company late into the night. The cracked paint formed a disfigured dollar sign which frustrated him. His apartment building was a heap of crap that somehow had rooms rented for two thousand dollars a month. He felt it wouldn’t be long before New Yorkers bought shit for five dollars a pound. He would be a fantastic supplier he thought to himself.
Scott tossed and turned in an effort to find that perfect position to fall asleep, but he made no progress. It was Sunday night and he was alone. Though he usually had his partner. But she was away for a week on a business trip, which did not bother him unless he was hungry. And he was hungry that night. He was afflicted with the midnight munchies. He cursed his inability to make a proper meal. The last time he tried to cook something, he created an unholy spawn of a burger and nearly burned his apartment building down. He feared another attempt, but his affliction grew worse as the annoying rhythm of his analog clock seemed to laugh at him. Tick-tock, tick-tock, ha ha, ha ha.
“Damn it,” Scotted moaned realizing he had no choice. “I’ll make something to eat.”
Scott squirmed out his bed and dragged his feet on the floor as if they were chained to large slabs of stone. His eye lids moved like broken blinds. As he left his bedroom, he turned on the lights for the hallway. Bad move. The sudden spark of bright light disoriented him, leaving him unable to move until his eyes adjusted to the lighting. Luckily, the kitchen wasn’t far. Scott did live in a New York City apartment, a fancy term for box.
When Scott reached his kitchen, he avoided the refrigerator. Cooking late at night was a bad idea. On top of his toaster oven was a loaf of bread and a ripe banana. Perhaps a simple peanut butter banana sandwich would fill his stomach. His stomach grumbled. Yes, a simple PB banana sandwich would do the trick. With high hope and confident, Scott grabbed two slices of bread, chopped the banana into thick slices with a butter knife and placed the chopped banana over the bread. But where was his peanut butter? He searched his cabinets. No where to be found. Impossible, Scott concentrated, I always have peanut butter. Where is it? The rusty clogs in his mind needed oiling with coffee, but he did not want to stay awake for the whole night. Summoning whatever willpower Scott had, he imagined the last spot he placed his peanut butter and his imagination led him to a dark place. There was no more peanut butter as he finished it two nights ago making a quadruple stack of peanut butter and jelly sandwich, with most of it being peanut butter. Scott definitely had better nights. Without peanut butter, Scott ate his sandwich. It was an unpleasant experience for his taste buds, but his stomach was quelled. The tick-tock of his analog clock faded away as the night grew silent.
Walking back to bed, Scott made a mental note to learn how to cook. It would be an essential life tool for himself and he could gain brownie points with his partner. Back in his bedroom, he slipped into his bed, opened the drawer next to his bed and pulled out his personal vaporizer filled with Midnight Munchies from Liquid Puf. With a deep inhale and a slow exhale, his taste buds slowly found themselves in a happier place. And he found himself in deep slumber.