Romans & histoires Donut X Barf Bag

I added and carried some of the food’s paper bags from him. “What are these?” I asked when I put everything on the small table inside. “Chicken, croissant, donuts, popcorn, chips and some drinks.” My lips parted when I saw it all as well. This is so much for god's sake. “You bought a lot,” I commented and glanced at him unbelievably. He was already on the television. “Well, we haven't eaten anything yet.” He's right though. It's kinda funny that we went to Ford's bar when we haven't eaten our breakfast yet.

My stomach growled again as I untied the straps of my work apron and slipped it off, tossing it next to the half-finished work. I washed my hands, wiped off the clay smudges on my cheeks, and in the next second, I was back at the workshop. Walking towards the locker, I retrieved my sling bag and opened it. However, as soon as I dipped my hands into the bag, confusion swirled in my mind when I didn’t find my apple. Instead, there was an apple juice sitting in there and a box filled with six different flavors of doughnuts. My brows pulled together and for a second, a thought that I had gotten the wrong bag crept through my mind.

She asked in her usual chirpy voice. “Thank you, Lauren, that would be great,” I answered, knowing Mom wouldn’t turn down cake in a million years. Aaron’s ears pricked up. “Oh, I just remembered. I have a cream doughnut in the fridge.” He rubbed his hands together with glee, looking a lot like a kid in a candy store. Lauren’s smile fell from her face. “Oh, that was yours?” She winced in apology. “Sorry, it looked so good.”

There had to be one, didn't there? As I searched, I found that many of the cabinets were empty—for storage, I presumed. Near the wet bar, most of the cupboards were filled with trays containing packets of snacks, sweet or salty. They were both there. The way each one was sealed, they probably had enough preservatives to last another ten years. I continued to open each little door. I finally found what I'd been searching for in a shiny cabinet with a gold handle under the bar. AED was printed on the exterior of a red nylon bag. "Here it is."

The men stepped in with bags while Luna Hope wheeled in a cart laden with food. “I figured you guys could enjoy a nacho bar tonight and then heat up the spicy chicken and squash spaghetti tomorrow. There are 3 dozen eggs and 2 pounds of bacon and sausage and several loaves of bread. Lunch meat for sandwiches, doughnuts, chips and pretzels, milk and a case of water,” Luna Hope told us. “Oh my gosh, thank you,” I said, giving her a big hug. “It was nothing really. You kids enjoy your weekend,” she said and they left.

She must have been sleeping here all night. My eyes darted to the table next to me, there was a large brown bag sitting there. I knew it wasn't there before. I grabbed the bag and looked inside, there was a cup of milkshake, McDonald's fries, a slice of pizza from Joe's, and a small tub of Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. There was also a post-it attached to the milkshake cup that said: "Dear K, eat me." Oh, that crazy mudderfudder.

He was right about these too. On the counter, the bag he brought this morning sits deflated, the “hospitality kit” curated into all the right places. A line of ginger ale in the door, the peppermint and ginger tea he allowed me to slowly sip, on the counter with a honey bear standing guard like a cheerful sentinel, applesauce cups, broth, bananas. The lemon bars tucked behind the takeout containers. He hid them like a parent, which is both rude and correct.

She also puts a packet of garlic bread , two packets of fun fries , two packets of onion rings , two packets of chicken nuggets and four apples inside each of the plastic bags for the children to bring home . She also prepared thirty two paper bags filled with a box of medium size barbeque meat pizza , a packet of garlic bread , a box of four smoked chicken wings , a box of Mac and cheese and a box of spaghetti beef also four apples for their thirty two guests including her eldest brother in law and battalion commander Xia to take home after their dinner .

POV: Barzil The air in the subway station tasted of recycled breath and ancient, stale electricity. I sat on a cracked plastic bench, the edge digging into my thigh through the armor weave. In my hand, a nutrient bar crumbled. It was standard issue Dregs salvage—gray, dense, smelling of wet cardboard. I forced a bite past my teeth. It coated my tongue in a film of chalky grease, refusing to go down. My throat convulsed around it, a dry, tight spasm, but I swallowed. Fuel. Not food.

"Lunch is a waste of prime shopping hours. I had the driver put a bag in the backseat for us. You can eat on the way to the restaurant." She reached into her designer purse and tossed a silver foil package at me. I caught it against my chest. It was a dense, brown protein bar that looked like it was made of compressed sawdust. I took a bite and nearly gagged. It tasted like vanilla flavored chalk. "Delicious," I lied, forcing myself to swallow the dry lump. Eventually, the shopping marathon hit its limit. We walked back to the car, our arms full of glossy shopping bags. I fell into the leather interior of the sedan and kicked off the heels immediately. My arches were throbbing.