This is the second entry of the “Dining at the End of the World” column series. It is recommended that you read the entries in order.
#6 – The Aftermath (Coming soon)
Day 1:
The world ended at 11:59:59 a.m. on a Sunday. It wasn’t announced by a distant chorus of screams or a ghastly silence as Hollywood has conditioned us to expect, but rather, with the hourly mewling of my Cat Clock that I had just minutes before refitted with batteries. It would be 30 days (or 720 mewlings) before the world unended itself and I would be allowed to eat like a real person again. I wondered for a moment if I should have lit a birthday candle or bought a couple of balloons, but then I remembered I was alone. Through repeated personal study, I had long ago discovered that solitary celebration becomes proportionally as pathetic as the effort you put into making the moment special. An hour later the cat clock mewled again and I took the batteries out.
Too excited to wait until morning or hunger, I made myself a bowl of Creamy Wheat Cereal. Combining ¼ cup of grain from the can, 1 cup of boiling water, and a handful of minutes produced something that more or less visually met the low standards set by the picture on the can. A taste confirmed that it was indeed “creamy” and had a taste most similar to “wheat.”
I was taken aback by how perfectly the name of the food fit. I was then taken aback by how, in only two bites, I had reached a depth of boredom typically only achieved by hours of focused inactivity. I received six cans of Creamy Wheat in my kit, making it the most plentiful food at my disposal. At 10 servings a can, that leaves me with 60 servings over the course of 30 days, or two servings of Creamy Wheat Cereal a day. To think I was worried about running out of food.
The next morning I ate and cooked every couple of hours, shrewdly calculating the calories I was taking in, trying to make sure I didn’t exceed or undershoot my goal. I had potato soup (surprisingly, not the worst potato soup I’ve ever had) and chili (by far the worst chili I’ve ever had, but better than the potato soup), and I even treated myself to a recipe from the cool little recipe book that came along with the kit: Scrambled Eggs with Onions and Bacon. Maybe it was the constantly crushing of expectations, but I really enjoyed the scrambled eggs. As for the bacon flavored protein, I had to admit, out of all the meats that it tasted unlike, the meat it tasted the least unlike was bacon. It seems that the key to surviving this entire ordeal was within that little recipe book.
Day 2:
I lost the recipe book. I hadn’t left the house since I last used it, so I was certain that it was somewhere in my apartment. Finding it nowhere, I instead took comfort in the fact that even if I couldn’t find it, it was somewhere close by, watching over me. I ate soup and banana chips. I browsed the contents of my fridge several times due to habit.
Day 3:
In an attempt to cut down on food preparation times, I cooked an entire can of Broccoli Cheddar Soup and a can of Chili. While this did please the Gods of Culinary Efficiency, I became tired of both after three servings of each. I ate a serving of Creamy Wheat Cereal for the sake of variety. This has thus far been the surest sign of my deteriorating ability to make logical decisions.
Day 4:
According to my calculations, the only daily nutritional goal I am not severely deficient in is sodium. This is likely due to the fact that I am pretty much just eating soup. Hunger you see, follows the course of least resistance, and since what was available was a large amount of soup, a large amount of soup is precisely what I ate.
Also, my urine has turned a rather aggressive shade of yellow.
Day 6:
Why do the ones we love most always end up hurting us so badly? I miss my recipe book. However, even in the face of tragedy, man must learn to lift his head to the sun and carry on. I will make my own recipes!
You see, as it turns out, this kit also comes with several cans of pancake mix. Typically, this would be pants-wettingly wonderful, but unfortunately I’m a pancake conservative. The only circumstances when pancakes work for me is when they come with a form of syrup. The idea of eating pancakes plain is like buying me a TV and cutting my cable. So, I have to come up with new, exciting ways to utilize this staple (as from the amount of pancake mix they’ve given me, apparently this is supposed to be a staple). By mixing the pancake mix together with the most non-offensive complimentary items I could find in my cupboard, I’ve created a strange smelling, not entirely impossible to tolerate form of utility food. I’ve decided on the name “Food Cakes” as that is as specific as I’m willing to get with a descriptive title. Until my digestive system confirms how good an idea this is, I will withhold the ingredients for the safety of mankind.
Day 7:
I don’t think I’ll be making any more Food Cakes. It seems the human sense of taste can only be assaulted so many times before it starts to rebel. It was a good idea though, and I’m proud of my efforts. Have you ever noticed how many places there are dedicated to selling nothing but food? The world is such a hostile place now. Today I browsed the contents of my fridge several times due to nostalgia and self-loathing.