Cardboard Cartons and Styrofoam Streets

Through hollow, cardboard jungles, in the most frigid of conditions, I searched. The large, colored labeling and small, mono type print disoriented me. I needed sustenance. My cartons of colored liquids were gone, as was the rum. Containers of what I can only assume were Chinese food, sat packed neatly in a corner. Salvation was only moments away.
I grasped the container and popped the Styrofoam lid, but it was a trap. A congealed mass of green and brown stared back at me, menacingly. My nose went aflame in reaction to the repulsion. Naturally, I clasped the lid back on, threw all the containers in the trash, threw the trash into the bathtub, and lit the entirety of the contents ablaze. Most would say that was more than necessary, but I’m confident they would do the same if their senses were assailed like mine. I probably should have taken a shower first.
Returning to the kitchen, morale lowered, I restarted my search. Coffers of cantaloupe, rancid and rank, held captive a crisper drawer. Slices of swiss and silver-foil wrapped sandwiches were packed far into the back of the fridge; no knowledge to their date of creation. All hope seemed lost. I felt malnourished and marauded; eternally doomed to spend my life in flannel pajama pants with no money or form of transportation. I hard swipe at an empty box started a chain reaction. Like an intricate arrangement of dominoes, items of all shapes and sizes toppled over. Behind the effects of my destruction was a lone jar. A green liquid sloshed slightly in response to the vibration from my previous destructive motion.
My fingertips tapped gently against the glass before snatching it from the confines of the fridge. My delicious deliverance danced in front of me; pickles. They were dill pickles to be precise, but precision wasn’t on my mind at the time. I firm tuck into my arm and firm clasp of the jar, then a twist, followed by nothingness. The jar was defiant; unwavering in the face of my attempts to relinquish it of its treasure. Undeterred, I retreated to my garbage fire; now a rampant flame.
I rotated the jar slowly over the flame and smoke, like a roast on a spit, and tried to recall the television show or science experiment that inspired my actions. Before I could recall, the smoke detector had gone abuzz with the news of thick, black smoke in the air. My lungs too, rapidly filling with the murky menace, was informing me of the situation.
I rotated the jar slowly over the flame and smoke, like a roast on a spit, and tried to recall the television show or science experiment that inspire my actions. Before I could recall, the smoke detector had gone abuzz with the news of thick, black smoke in the air. My lungs too, rapidly filling with the murky menace, was informing me of the situation. I coughed a heavy cough and lowered the jar into the fire. An intense warmth and pain coursed through my fingers in a mad dash for my brain. I remember the fall and nothing else. When I awoke, I was surrounded by the hum of machines and the serenaded by the beeps of devices. An IV slowly provided liquid nourishment through my veins. The jar may have eluded me, but at least I got my food.

Cardboard Cartons and Styrofoam Streets

vuardiant

Joined January 2008

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