Beginning to write and suddenly, I have a craving.
I shouldn’t be surprised. I was reading some of yesterday’s work to begin today. Yesterday, I wrote:
Pram was hungry.
He almost laughed before considering his hunger more pragmatically. Thinking back to his last meal, he remembered that big-ass double cheeseburger he’d enjoyed from the compiler before this fiasco began.
Last meal was an ugly phrase selection, given the situation. Perhaps his mind had deliberately, slyly inserted it. His mind often seemed to sabotage him. That would be a perfect last meal – a double cheeseburger with sharp Cheddar cheese, a toasted sesame seed bun, onions, pickles, Russian dressing, ketchup and spicy yellow mustard. Add a vanilla milkshake and fried onion rings, hot and salted, and he’d enjoy his perfect last meal.
You’d think, then, that my craving would center around Pram’s meal. But no, I wanted pie. If not pie – blueberry or cheery – a turnover would do. But then, no! Crashing through my window of desire came a DOUGHNUT.
Oh, yeah, a doughnut, like a maple log, like the ones we used to buy at the Krispy Kreme on Leghorn in Mountain View. Yes, and that makes sense, because this FEELS LIKE FRIDAY.
Military or civilian, we always had doughnuts on Friday when I worked in California. I feel like I should honor that tradition.
Even if today is Thursday.
Now, though, I’m remembering the hot fried onion rings we used to buy in Osan City outside of Osan Air Base in Korea. Hot, salted onion rings and a cold beer.
Oh, boy. I need help.