“Good afternoon, Luigi’s Pizza”
“Hi, I’d like a…” “Let me tell you about some of our offers first: since it’s Tuesday we have a great deal if you purchase…”
“No thanks, I just want two large pepperoni pizzas…” “…but if you upgrade that to extra-large and you put two more toppings on it, it’s gonna be only $9.99 a pie… Hello?”
“I said ‘No thanks’, my address is…”
And then there’s a new voice, “We’re sorry but our service has been momentarily suspended. Please contact your nearest service provider or visit our website for more infor…”
I have only one option left: the fridge. There is a three month old rancid lemon and an orange piece of butter. And then I remember. There is a place I haven’t checked in ages! The freezer!
There has to be something in there. I hold my nose, and I open the door. At first glance, everything seems normal. There are signs of an ancient culinary culture in all its magnificence. I find some mysterious small boxes containing something florescent. One of the lids says, “Gravy – Thanksgiving.” It’s probably poison, but who cares? I certainly don’t. I open the container. But as soon as I lift the lid, something lets out a horrible scream. I chuck it out the window.
I decide to dig deeper into the freezer. There is a headless chicken in a plastic bag, and a small perfectly preserved dinosaur in a block of ice. And then I see them: these wonderful ice-cream sandwiches. The chocolate and vanilla ones. The old lady that lived here before me probably bought them for her grandson or something. I take the box out elated. Yes, I can finally eat. You can’t even imagine how amazing the first bite was. I eat the first one in three seconds. And quickly tear the wrapping off the second one. Then I notice the expiration date: “Best before September 1997…”
I really need to buy a new umbrella.
– Simone la Cuercha