One Slice (Part 1, Mature Version)

Damn, my mom is gonna beat my ass. It’s not my fault I came home at 11:00. You see, my soccer coach had us doing drills all night just because some kid kept fucking up the kick. I would’ve stopped for a quick bite to eat, but the single dollar bill in my pocket told me, “no way bitch.” So I stepped out of Megan’s car and crept slowly from the driveway to the front door. I had to make it undetected to avoid the wrath of my parents. The front light flickered on and off with a mild cracking noise as I fumbled around with the keys. Once the door was open, I crept in the dimly lit house and attempted to walk as light as I possibly could. My parents’ door was wide open, and I glanced inside. They were sound asleep just like babies, with a video of rain playing on their TV. I was in the clear! My first thought was to flop on the bed in my room, but I could not ignore the rumblings and grumblings occurring in my stomach. Therefore, I decided to make a quick trip to the kitchen.

A bright white light stunned my eyes before I realized that the fridge was already open. Looking through the selection, I was unsure what to eat with so few options. There were some prunes, but I’m not touching that. There was some cheese, but we had nothing to go with it. And who eats cheese by itself? The one thing that caught my eye was a slice of pizza from Jim’s Bakery. The slices were the size of your face, and it came with loads of pepperoni. There was only one slice left, but if my family wanted more pizza, it would be as simple as ordering another box. So I took the risk, grabbed a plate, and threw it in the microwave. I stood vigilantly by the microwave as the pizza turned just to be on the lookout for anyone coming in the kitchen, especially my Auntie. Her house had been repossessed due to tax invasion, and the guest room became her palace since then. I have no problems with her, except the fact that she sleepwalks once a week and it is a scarier sight than any horror movie I have ever seen. But tonight, I was thankfully spared the visual. With a second left, I stopped the microwave to avoid that awful and glaring beep. When we first bought it, the timer sounded like a tactical nuke. My father thought it was the fire alarm and zipped from the kitchen to the neighbor’s yard. I took the pizza out and carefully walked to my room while keeping an eye out for family members that wanted to ask questions. Once I got to my room, I leaped into my fluffy beanbag chair, and within thirty seconds, all traces of pizza vanished from my plate. After tossing it into the garbage bin, I set my alarm for six A.M, turned off the lights, and hopped in the bed. Hopefully, there won’t be any ramifications in the morning…

I was walking down the beach, all alone, listening to some techno. Out of nowhere, a flock of seagulls came and swarmed in loud circles around my head. It was unbearable and impossible to fend them away. During my freak-out, I realized that I was still safe in bed, and it was just my alarm. I wondered why I didn’t change this goddamn thing; it always interfered with a good dream. Anyways, I did the usual morning schtick. I rubbed my eyes, showered, fixed my hair, put on my school clothes, all that good shit. Then I went to the kitchen for my quick banana breakfast. But instead of our nicely homely kitchen, I saw a complete disaster zone. Tables were turned over, cabinets flew from their frames, and sinks were running were like waterfalls. I looked in horror and stepped back, just trying to put everything in perspective. Is this all a dream? My parents walked in with their bright work suits before pausing and looking in the kitchen. Slowly, they turned their heads to me in a robotic motion.

“What did you do?” asked my mother.

“Nothing,” I tried to explain, “I just walked in, and the kitchen was like this.”

My father looked at the scene in confusion, then rubbed his chin.

“Did Osiris do this?” he asked. That was my younger brother, who catches the bus a full thirty minutes before I even open my eyes.

“You know he probably did,” my mom said, crossing her arms. “That boy can have a temper tantrum over a lost napkin.”

They stepped in the kitchen and began looking around like detectives. My father pretty much snooped around the fridge area and sniffed around before taking a peek inside.

“Oh, my goodness,” he said, with his eyes widened. “Somebody took the last slice of pizza.”

All eyes turned towards me.

“Did…you…eat the last slice of pizza?” my mother said, putting on her best soap opera impression.

They stared at me. I stared back. They stared at me. I stared right back. We couldn’t keep this up forever, so I decided to speak up to the best of my ability.

“Well, if I did eat it, what would happen?”

“Oh no,” my mother said, burying her hands in my head.

“That slice was supposed to be your brothers’ gift to his teacher,” my father explained, “It was his birthday. He had a candle with it and everything.”

I was surprised at how my late-night cravings translated into a chaotic morning and impressed that our fridge could even collapse like that. But I snapped back to reality and knew I had to admit to it. I looked at the floor to avoid at least some of the shame.

“Look, I ate the last slice of pizza, I didn’t know it would cause so much trouble, and uh, I’ll do anything to help fix this.”

My father looked at me with the most neutral face I had ever seen.

“Well, I understand Miranda,” he said, “But on your way to school, you must buy your brother another slice of pizza from that bakery. This could lead to a disaster if you’re not quick enough”.

With those words, I thought we were in a tense action movie, but I brought my thoughts back to earth and said, “Yes, sir.” Megan honked her horn outside, and I knew I had a task to complete. I made a quick run for my bags and headed to her car. Once I got in, she played some ambient music while slowly chewing some peppermint gum. She turned toward me and asked, “You okay Miranda?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I replied. “It was just, well, we had a crazy morning.”

“I can tell, every time you have a bad morning, you forget an earring.”

Immediately, I grabbed my ear, and it turns out she was right.

“Wow, I must’ve lost in the kitchen, I was just scrambling through the mess.”

“What mess?”

“My brother destroyed the entire kitchen over one slice of pizza, and I gotta buy him another one before school.”

“Well shit, if he destroyed it, why the fuck you buyin’ another one?”

“Look, it was a late-night. I was hungry. It was the only good thing in the house.”

“You should’ve told me. We could’ve gotten some chicken tacos last night.”

“Bitch I was broke! I had just one damn dollar!”

“Hell, I would’ve paid for everything. You know, I earned fifty dollars from my babysitting gig on Wednesday”.

I slapped my forehead in disbelief. “Hoe, you gotta be kidding me.”

“Yes bitch,” she said, “We could’ve avoided all this bullshit, but let me take you to this motherfucker before it gets too late.”

Within two minutes, we had finally arrived at Jim’s Bakery. I could feel my troubles melting away until I noticed one tiny obstacle. The sign on the door said, “Closed.”

“Closed? Aren’t they usually open at five every morning?”

“Yeah,” Megan said, “It must be something special going on to make them close today. But the key’s still in the door”.

She looked at me with a sense of mischief in her eyes,

“Nope,” I declared, crossing my arms. “We ain’t doing this shit!”

Apparently, my words escaped her eardrums as she glanced at me for a minute and grabbed the key.

“I’m turning the key,” she said with her best creepy doll impression. “You know we gotta get the pizza.”

I shook my head and said, “Fine, but we gotta make this quick.”