The Wayward Noodle 4

            “I didn’t say that quickly! Are you okay?”

            “I don’t mind telling you, I’m feeling pretty al dente right now.”

            Noodle lay, gathering what was left of his strength. The world was in the balance. “I didn’t look in the hood vents, but I don’t think I have the strength…” He coughed weakly. “‘Erk!’… ‘herm’…”

            “I don’t think we’d find anything in the hood vents,” Fortune told him.

            “The reservation table! Maybe there’s something in the drawer… ‘herm’…”

            “I know a more likely place.”

            “Where?”

            “You’re there. You haven’t looked at my fortune.”

            “‘Erk?’”

            “There might be a clue there.”

            “But… ‘herm’… you’d have to get out of your ‘herm!’ hermetically sealed package! How long would you last otherwise?”

            “Well, my package will last quite a long time…”

            “That’s not what I’m askin.”

            “I know, Noodle. The fact is… fortune cookies don’t have ‘best by’ dates.”

            “Oh. …‘herm.’”

            “I’ve been beneath that ‘fridge since Winter. Even in my hermetically sealed package, I’m already half gone. No one opens and reads a fortune in a cookie that’s been on the floor, and now, unless there’s a clue there, the world’s gonna be ruined anyway. I want to have my fortune read by somebody, and you’re the only one who can do that. I’m glad you came along! Even if we saved the world without my fortune, I would’ve had to do this. And, we have to hurry, before you dry out.”

            With that, Fortune opened the package from within, and ‘snap!’, she was halved.

            “Read the fortune.” Fortune said, “Read it quickly!”

            Noodle leant over and read the fortune:

            “Love everyone. Don’t be a borrower.”

            (Reprinted with permission from Alabaster Spoon Incorporated, ©2016.)

            “WHAT?”

            Noodle nosed the slip over. “Maybe there’s something on this side. Yeah! There is. Lucky Numbers: 40, 36…”

            “Those were just sayings!”

            “… 12…”

            “The bastards! I wasn’t a ‘fortune’ cookie, I was a ‘saying’ cookie!”          

             “These lucky numbers must mean something! 10, 7...”

            Now, Fortune was ‘erking’ and ‘herming’.

            “Shit! Sorry… ‘erk’… I thought it might have helped.”

            “And, 2.”

            Fortune was in bad shape. Noodle didn’t feel so hot, himself. Fortune ranted.

            “It’s all up! No use. ‘Erk!’ ‘Herm!’ That wasn’t a fortune! Alabaster Spoon has let us down! For all their talk about ‘truth in advertising’, they don’t consider the perspective of the product itself. They made me a fraud! ‘Ha-rump!’...”

            “You’re right… ‘erk’… There’s nothing to it. I’m sorry you had to go through this.”

            Fortune hollered in frustration toward the acoustic tile above, and Noodle joined her.

            “Augh! ‘Erk!’ ‘Herm!’”

            They shouted upward like teeny-tiny Klingons giving a fellow warrior a send-off.

            “Augh!”         

            Noodle’s voice echoed throughout the large kitchen.

            “Love everyone! Don’t be a borrower, but play the lottery!”

            “That’s a good one. But there’s something to that, Noodle… ‘erk’…”

            “The lottery?”

            “No! I’m fading fast… ‘herm’… Love. I don’t love everyone, but, actually, I’ve always loved you.”

            “‘Herm?’”

            “From the moment I saw you…”

            “Well, that’s…”

            “Instead of tearing myself apart, we could’ve gone to Martinique in the time we had left and made gluten together … ‘Erk!’”

            “That would’ve been nice.”

            “‘...erk'?”

            “You’ve always been a fortune cookie to me, Fortune. And, I love you, too. Oh! And, tumeric becomes you. Oh! And- DON’T LEAVE ME!”

            “I’m sorry. But, I have to…”

            Fortune was gone.

            By now, Noodle was a bit delirious. He heard a whisper. “Martinique.” He wondered where it came from. Maybe it came all the way from Martinique. But, he didn’t even know where Martinique was. It sounded like a nice place, though. “Martinique.” A few things, as he lingered, came to him clear. For example, he realized that, with the recipe he was in, basically, he’d been Macaroni and Cheese, with all the connotations. He wished Fortune were still alive, so he could share that with her. She may have just contained sayings, but he held the distinction of being most commonplace. He heard- “Martinique”. Other things went through his mind. He had his memories. A lot of them were still stuck to him.

            Noodle lingered, amongst cellophane and crumbs, since he was less porous than Fortune, and, thus, more durable. Noodle found himself still burdened. He wanted to save the world, but he was so far gone that he was caring just for himself more and more. In the morning, a prep cook would come in to open the kitchen, look at an opened fortune cookie, a dried noodle, and a cellophane package on the floor, and go- ‘what the hell?’

            “Martinique.”

            “Fortune?”

            From beside him, she slid across the kitchen floor. Noodle really freaked out, but then he realized that it was just her package, being blown by hot air from the slot beneath the ‘fridge. One flap in the package served as a sail. The bottom of the cellophane package fairly danced over the grooves in the tile, and she stopped right in the middle of the floor.

            There was some rattling and thunks out on the floor, then the prep cook came into the kitchen, flicking on the lights there. Noodle looked over, and it wasn’t the prep cook. In fact, the man he saw didn’t seem to belong there at all. He had greasy, short hair, wore a sharkskin suit with a skinny tie, and he was carrying what looked like a toaster oven.

            “Watch out! That package is slick!” Noodle cried.

            But, he hadn’t cried. He realized that he was so far gone, that he had tried to cry, but hadn’t. He’d wanted to save the world, but he couldn’t even save one person now.

            The man walked through the kitchen quickly, disregarding the cellophane package. In fact, he stepped on it. There was a great crash.

            Noodle heard the man go-

            “Ungh!”

            Another man entered the kitchen. Noodle could only sense this, in the terminal state he was in.

            “You fool! What have you done?”

            “My ankle…”

            “Never mind your ankle. The Doomsday Machine is ruined!”

            “Ungh…”

            Noodle rolled about and squirmed in joy and exaltation.

            “Imbicile! Now the apocalypse will have to be put on hold. Itt’l take decades to prepare another!”           

            Noodle listened to the boss spy berate the feckless spy, smiled, and gave up the gluten.