Alfredo's quest for Alfredo
"Italian Man's Scrumptious, Pasta Delight is chosen number one out of all hungry people craving pasta."
The air was hot and the TV droned in the distance. Alfredo sat on a chair in front of the TV, wearing only his boxers in an attempt to beat the heat. His legs were spread apart, his head titled to the side, and his mouth hung open gathering the hot summers dust and heat. He breathed heavily, slowly falling deeper into his slumber. The sound of the TV still buzzed in the distance and it acted as a lullaby, slowly beckoning him to his dreamland.
"Would you like some smooth, creamy, and oh so delicious dinner tonight?"
The question caught Alfredo's ears and it pulled him slightly out of his trance.
"A dinner that just hits the spot and keeps you wanting more?"
Alfredo's stomach growled in response and he sat up lazily, closing his mouth. His mouth was hot and dry, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He moved it around and begged his mouth to salivate again as he focused on the thing that had pried him from his near unconsciousness.
"A big, hearty bowl of Italian Man's Scrumptious, Pasta Delight is just the thing for you."
Pictures of the food filled the screen and Alfredo's mouth instantly began to water quicker than Pavlov's dogs. He longed to have the smooth, creamy pasta in his mouth and he continued to watch TV intently until the commercial had finally reached its climatic end.
"Oh man," Alfredo groaned at the start of a new commercial, "I'm starving!"
His stomach growled in agreement and he carefully willed himself to get up. His body fought against him and his muscles shook, almost refusing to lift his weight. He looked around his apartment and observed the dirty dishes from the past week, still lying on the kitchen counter. His stomach growled again, giving him just enough motivation to try picking himself up again. His arms and his body finally agreed and he slowly lifted himself up. His hair and sweat matted back stuck to the chair slightly, causing him to wonder if fate would ever allow for him to be with his beloved Alfredo. He finally stood, and his backside felt the hot breeze coming in from the open window. Empty soda and beer cans shuffled as he moved his feet lazily, one in front of the other. His feet carried him into the kitchen and he stood staring at the decaying dishes piling near the sink. He wrinkled his nose, choosing to ignore the rotten food melting under the hot sun, and turned to face his pantry.
Alfredo stood in a state of pure bliss as he looked at the heavenly cabinet. The sunlight reflected off it, causing Alfredo's eyes to sparkle. Staring at the cabinet, he knew that in mere moments he could be snacking on his favorite food. He remembered just buying a bag of the heavenly substance from the store and his stomach growled. He patted it, reassuring the growling beast that as soon as he opened the door and made the food, it would be satisfied.
He took in a long, relaxing breath and reached his hand out slowly to the handle. Alfredo could almost hear the trumpets sounding as his arm felt the door pull open slightly. He closed his eyes, breathing in heavily again, and opened the door fully. He opened his eyes and saw the food littering the shelves. His eyes searched for the tasty treat he had been so badly craving, reading every label in the cabinet. His eyes moved from the top of the pantry to the bottom, not seeing the pasta anywhere. The dream-like haze was removed from his vision and he opened his eyes wide.
He thrust his hands in the cupboard and began rummaging through it frantically, knocking everything out in the process.
The apartment door opened, but Alfredo was oblivious as his roommate entered the room.
"Where is it?" his hands continued to search frantically.
"NO!" His hands fell to his sides and he slowly moved to kneel on the floor. His head fell on the edge of one of the shelves and he sat with tears gathering in his eyes.
"No, no, no, it has to be in here. Where could it have gone?"
Alfredo's roommate glared down at the blubbering man and shook his head.
"What the heck is going on?"
Alfredo automatically stopped his pathetic sobs and turned to his roommate. "When did you get in?"
"Right about when you started crying." He looked down at Alfredo and shook his head, "what is wrong with you?"
"My pasta," Alfredo replied. "My pasta is gone and I'm starving."
"Make something else then," the roommate said seemingly loosing interest in the situation. He walked to the fridge and pulled out the milk. He opened the top, smelled it, and took a swig before replacing it.
"You don't understand," Alfredo said begging his pathetic mass to get up. "I need that smooth, creamy, delicious Alfredo," his stomach growled in agreement.
"Oh, the Alfredo?"
"Yeah, I just bought it."
His roommate looked over to him an turned away. "Oh, I ate that yesterday."
"What?!" Alfredo could slowly feel his world crashing down on him. His knees buckled under the invisible weight and he put a hand to his chest.
"I ate that yesterday," came the repeated response, "it was really good."
Heat rose to Alfredo's cheeks and he glared at the person across from him.
"That was mine!"
"Sorry," his roommate said unsympathetically, "go buy some more."
"Why should I have to buy more when you're the one that ate it?"
"You didn't say not to."
"You get pissed when I eat your food, you hypocrite. If you didn't buy it then who else would've?"
"Get off my back," his roommate said, leaving the kitchen. "It's not my problem."
"Well, give me the money for it and I will."
"I don't have any money."
"Neither do I, and I want my pasta."
His roommate turned as Alfredo yelled on about the creamy, tasty goodness. "
"Calm down," he said putting his hand in his pocket. "All I have is a buck."
"But a package costs two," Alfredo said taking the money. "You owe me one more."
"I don't have it," he replied, getting severely annoyed.
"Then you shouldn't have eaten it."
Alfredo's roommate held up his hand in frustration and opened his mouth to speak.
"A dinner that just hits the spot and keeps you wanting more?"
The duo turned and stared intently at the TV. Pictures of the pasta that Alfredo craved danced on the screen and his stomach growled.
"I want my pasta!" Alfredo screamed, crushing the dollar in his hand.
"That does look good," his roommate said, licking his lips. "Hey, give me my dollar back."
Alfredo glared and put his hand behind his back, "you touch it, you die."
"But I don't have enough money to get it if I don't get that one back."
You've been holding out on me! You do have another dollar! Give it to me!"
The argument continued that way for several minutes before Alfredo's roommate advanced towards him.
"Give me that dollar."
"No!" Alfredo said, taking his roommate's challenge and stepping forward himself. "If you wouldn't have eaten it in the first place, I could be eating right now."
His stomach roared in agreement and Alfredo put his hand on it to silence it.
"Give me my dollar!"
Alfredo's roommate dove forward, knocking Alfredo onto his back. The two wrestled in attempts to free the dollar from the other's grasps. Arms flew everywhere and finally Alfredo had the dollar firmly in his hand.
"No you don't," the roommate said, reaching for the dollar.
Alfredo screamed at the offensive move and swung his arms wildly, hitting his roommate hard on the head. His opponent's body fell limp and Alfredo sat, wondering what had just transpired.
"You okay?" He poked the body next to him and made sure he had a pulse when no response came.
"I'm going to kick you if you don't move," he bluffed.
He put his leg up, ready to kick, but held it there, waiting for his roommate to wake up. When no sign of movement was seen, he laughed to himself and reached into the man's pocket, pulling out the other crumpled dollar.
He kissed the dollar after straightening it out and held it to the light, basking in its glory. He got up and got dressed quickly, praying his roommate wouldn't wake up any time soon. Putting the dollar in his pocket, he walked to the door and opened it just as the commercial started again. His stomach rumbled his whole body and his feet followed in the direction his stomach was begging him to go.