Snackpocalypse🍕!

 Snack Attack🍴🍪!

Surely, at some point of time in your life, you have tiptoed down the dark hallway, late at night, straight to the treasury, - or rather, the kitchen? I'll bet you riffed through all the shelfs just to satisfy the rats dinosaurs that have made your stomach their abode. Don't lie to me now, I know the feeling!

But was it just you? Or had someone already committed the crimes you were about to? Enjoy this original short story, and find out everything that happens when the clock strikes twelve!

Snackpocalypse🍕!

Should I? Or should I not? I shook my head. This wasn't matter of thought. Yes. I'll do it! I screamed in my head. I gingerly got out of bed, put in my slippers, when-

DONG!

The clock struck twelve. The world outside was silent, bathed in the glow of the flickering streetlights. But inside my house? A different kind of mission was about to begin. 

I tiptoed down the hallway, each creaky floorboard threatening to expose my crime. The kitchen was my destination. The goal? The last slice of pizza sitting in the fridge. It had my name on it (figuratively, but I was considering labeling my food from now on)!

The fridge loomed ahead, its handle glinting in the faint light. I reached out, my fingers barely brushing the cool metal-

CLANK!

I froze. I was pretty sure I was getting heart palpitations. One thing was pretty clear.

I wasn't alone.

Then she came into view. At first, just a silhouette in darkness, looming around like a deconstructed Godzilla, and then from the shadows emerged- my sibling. Wrapped in a blanket like some kind of snack-craving cryptid, she squinted at me and whispered.

"What are you doing?"
"What are you doing?"

We both knew one-another's shenanigans. We both refused to admit it. Just then, as if ghost living in the kitchen was craving some drama, the fridge door slowly opened, and the light flickered on, exposing the battlefield: the open pizza box. Then both of our eyes widened as we saw it. 

Once slice.

Two thieves.
A standoff.

I reached for the pizza. So did she. We froze. Our eyes met. A silent understanding passed between us. The battle shall be fought. But the emperors (or our parents) must not be awoken.

Slowly, I slid the box toward me. She yanked it back. I narrowed my eyes, when she had the audacity to smirk! The nerve! But that did it for me. 

Game. On.

I faked left. She jumped ahead. I darted right, snatching the box. I probably hadn't seen this much action even in a Mission Impossible movie! But the tables were about to turn. Yes, it would be Mission Impossible. But not for me. 


She lunged- elbows clashing, knees digging in, breath held back to avoid making a sound. The box got dislodged from my grip, and as if in slow motion, slid across the floor, right between the two of us. We held each other gaze. There might as well have been cowboy music in the background, and tumbleweeds should have been rolling all around.

Then, the universe played a cruel joke on us. A spoon clattered in the sink. As if someone had pressed pause, we stood there frozen, our breathes held. Seconds passed. No movement upstairs.

I exhaled in relief- she took the chance to swipe the slice.

My eyes widened. I reached- she spun away like a trained pizza ninja! I pounced. She dodged. The slice was in the air. We both dived. A near-silent scuffle on the cold kitchen tiles. 

My vision suddenly vanished. The blanket! I ripped it off my face, but she was already in motion- lunging, grabbing, and stuffing half the slice into her mouth before I could react.

It took all my willpower not to dramatically gasp like a fish out of water. "You monster!" I snarled. She chewed slowly, smugly. I clenched my jaw. "This isn't over," I whispered.

She patted my cheek mockingly and slipped away into the darkness. It wasn't about hunger anymore. It was about honor. The battle was lost, but the war? Oh, it had just begun.
No, not just a war.

A Snackpocalypse.