Crunchy Pudding
“I’m so damned hungry.” I mutter to myself which makes me smile just a little bit. Momma used to always ask me why I had conversations with myself. To which I would always smirk and reply “If I want an intelligent answer to my question, why not ask a genius?”
I have always been sort of full of myself, even at a young age. Somehow, I could take a problem and create a solution tailored to it. This wasn’t just once in a while, this was constantly. Other people began to expect this level of deduction from me, like I was some modern-day Sherlock Holmes. As a kid, it was amusing to solve the mystery of what happened to one of Old Ms. Feldman’s cats or to find my next-door neighbor Polly Newton’s favorite doll. But as I got older, just like life has a tendency to do, the problems became more complicated.
Deciphering the solutions to people’s medical problems is what drew me toward a career in medicine in the first place. It felt very fulfilling to not only find the answer to the mystery but heal these people as well. This new global pandemic changed everything we knew about how diseases affected people’s bodies and minds. It was as if leprosy had crossed with a form of Rabies. It destroyed people’s bodies while eating away at their mental state. The worst part about it though was the rate at which the disease proliferated, within a matter of weeks it had spread everywhere. Unfortunately, similar to Rabies there was no cure once it took hold of you enough for you to start exhibiting symptoms. It gripped the whole globe, and the result was the breakdown of modern-day civilization as we know it.
The electrical power was the first thing to go down followed quickly by all the other utilities. Gone were the days of solving simple problems with easy solutions. Instead, I was thrust into life-or-death scenarios where even making a minor mistake could cost thousands of innocent lives without a moment’s notice.
At that moment, my stomach growled louder and deeper than I have ever felt in my entire life. It was so powerful in fact, that it pulled me out of my deep memories of childhood and brighter times. Almost two days ago, I finished off the last bit of food we had at Momma’s house. I couldn’t wait anymore, and I had to find something to eat. So I braved the cold outside jumped the back fence and checked next-door to see if the Newton’s had any food.
I couldn’t hear anything inside, but it was just as cold as it was outside. Add to that, there was a terrible smell that hit me right across the face like a slap I didn’t see coming. I had never smelled anything so putrid; it made me nauseated almost immediately. I covered my nose and mouth with my jacket’s sleeve in a futile attempt to block out the disgusting fumes to no avail. I was immediately discouraged upon entering the kitchen. All the counters were empty of all food and all the cabinet doors lay open their insides bare. “Damn!” I can’t help saying to myself out loud. “What in God’s name is that horrible smell!?”
Frustrated with my failure in the current situation I was in, I decided to start looking around to find the source of the vile emanations. It had been so many years since I had been inside that house, but it felt almost like yesterday in my mind. Polly Newton and I were inseparable as kids so much so that neither her parents nor mine were at all surprised when we started dating in High School. She always called me Popeye because she said I always came to her rescue no matter what happened.
We even got tattoos together when we turned 18, I got Popeye on my right shoulder, and she got Olive Oil on hers. If it wasn’t for my stubborn streak and my constant need to forever solve every single complication that crossed my path, I wouldn’t have chosen my career and medical school over our relationship. If I hadn’t then I’m sure that I would have married Polly Newton and had some little cute kids of our own. But that wasn’t what happened at all, no fairytale wedding or story ending in “and they lived happily ever-after.” No, instead I stood inside her parents living room in the quickly failing light of a Winter sunset and silently stared at some bloody thing I couldn’t identify on her living room floor.
I had finally found what reeked so horribly awful. It was a pile of bloody skin, flesh, hair, and bones covered in black flies and maggots. With all the fluffy white hair all over the floor it was obvious to me that this was what was left of Mrs. Newton’s prized Maltese Pomeranians, Fluffy and Muffy. To see them like this really struck a solemn chord with me. “What could have possibly done this?” I pondered out loud, looking the ghastly remains on the floor. I grabbed a blanket from the couch and laid it over the gory mess. After all that I just jumped back over the fence to Momma’s house.
It was so dark on that ice cold moonless night, so silent you could hear a pin drop. I was still hungry, without a doubt, but after everything that happened at Polly’s place. I figured I just needed some sleep more than I did a meal right then. With that matter settled, I laid down and fell asleep almost immediately after my head hit the pillow. My dreams were filled with visions of Polly, the smell of that cherry perfume she doused herself in every chance she got filled my nostrils, and just some of the precious moments we had shared over the years that are forever burned into my memories. They were so pleasant and joyful to remember, I immediately loathed waking up bathed in the glow of early morning sunlight. No time for the past now, today was the day, no matter what it took I had to find some food.
With determination in my heart, I finished packing up a few supplies in my backpack. Making sure to include a couple cloth bags, just in case I hit the jackpot today. “Better to have it and not need it, then need it and not have it.” I said to myself as I finished packing everything up. Maybe I could start with Old Ms. Feldman’s place and work my way down the street towards the city and hopefully come upon something to eat. “Ok, that’s everything,” I scanned the room while muttering under my breath, my hand shaking slightly. I try with every fiber of my being to ignore it, but I can’t. I always get freaked out a little bit and my anxiety level gets all worked up before I go outside nowadays.
I unlock and push Momma’s thick Oak front door open just a tiny bit slowly and quietly while surveying the street. The street’s entirely empty, there’s not a soul around all I hear is the wind howling like a banshee. It was so damn cold; this was the worst Winter we have had since that huge storm that hit on Christmas Eve when I was a kid. It sticks out in my mind because I remember as a six-year-old I was so very worried that Santa wouldn’t be able to make it through the storm to our house. Momma reassured me, “That’s why he has Rudolph at the head of his team sweetie. This storm is nothing for Santa Claus, I guarantee it!” She said with a wink, while handing me a Christmas tree sugar cookie.
The icy bite of that Winter morning wind brought me back to reality real fast. “Keep your mind focused on the here and now, man. Now’s not the time for childhood memories about Christmas cookies!” I shake my head trying to focus myself and step out of the door. I’m just concerned with getting to Ms. Feldman’s house. She always had so many cats and animals around her place and a huge garden out back. She had to have something to eat there. My luck was about to change, I just knew it.
At any given time, Old Ms. Feldman had at least 10 cats if not more, not to mention an array of other typical farm animals. She really was the quintessential example of that crazy old cat lady. She was very sweet to young children especially when it came to Polly and me as kids. We used to spend so much time running around with all her animals playing and having the greatest adventures. Nowadays it seems as trying to survive and just get by can be truly the greatest adventure one can make in life. It took a little while in the cold, but I finally made it to the old farmhouse. The place was usually filled with sounds of life all over. Walking up this time there wasn’t a sound. I quietly make my way around the side of the farmhouse.
When I got to the back of the house, I immediately spotted the wide open door. I look around to see if I missed someone walking around, but saw nothing and heard only the wind’s piercing wailing. I walked into the small laundry room and didn’t see anything interesting. I stepped into the kitchen and opened the first cabinet I walked up to. The cabinet was stuffed full of cans of food, so were the ones next to it. It was as if Ms. Feldman left when all the power went out and she didn’t bring any of the food she had stockpiled with her. Suddenly I heard something odd ahead of me, past the kitchen in the living room, but I couldn’t identify what it was. I swear I could hear something that sounded as if someone was eating tapioca with crushed up potato chips on top. I turned the corner to see who was partaking in this odd crunchy pudding
While investigating the sound, I was overwhelmed by the eerily familiar smell of cherries. “No way, it can’t be…” I muttered to myself quickening my pace. As soon as I turned the corner my blood ran cold, and I froze, unable to move. She was skin and bones. I wouldn’t have been able to even recognize her if I didn’t have Olive Oil staring me in the face. Tears welling up in my eyes I fought to speak without my voice cracking “Polly? Sweetheart is that you?”
I gasped when she turns, and I notice she was completely covered in blood. She held what is left of one of Ole Ms. Feldman’s cats. She chewed on raw cat flesh as she stared blankly at me. For just a moment it looks as though she regains her mind and almost recognizes me, she then clumsily said “Popeye?” Her mental clarity was gone just as fast as it had appeared and all I saw was the madness and rage in her eyes. She then screamed incoherently at the top of her lungs and lunged at me like a wild animal.
About The Author