the epic

It’s 12:03 AM, and we have a hankering. Not for just any old food – only one product can satisfactorily sate our prodigious appetites. I can taste it now…the creamy beans, the may-or-may-not-be-rodent-meat “beef,” the crunchy shell. Yes, it’s time for fourthmeal.

There’s a line in the drive-through, as expected. The lights are on. All is well…preemptive salivation erupts at the thought of the oh-so-delicious (and inexpensive) double decker taco. Place the order…“We’re closed.”

WTF? It’s five minutes past midnight, right in the heart of fourthmeal territory. I was just beginning to think outside the bun, and how am I rewarded? I’ll take my business elsewhere…

To the golden arches we go, their shining rays emanating hope for those slighted from the taco peddler’s false claims. Another line, far longer than the last…but who is that inside, pointing at the last several cars and shaking his head in dismay? No, there’s nothing for us here…waiting would only result in utter humiliation when the callous rejection is personally relayed. Oh, the hunger…it’s only been whetted by the thought of such convenient delicacies. One last hope…

…To the Wal, its parking lot a mere quarter full and appearing dwarfed by the storefront in the moonlight. Frozen food…quick decisions…only two cashiers! We can wait..oh, I need three pounds of gummi bears. Waiting…waiting…K-Fed’s getting a reality show? Waiting…ahh, sweet satisfaction! The night is upon us, with only a drive and a microwave between our gluttonous will and its gratification.

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