OJ

These two have always been too good to drink the store brand orange juice. Shunned due to its plain label, it was left in the back of the fridge, which allowed me to drink straight from the bottle. It literally tasted the same as the premium OJ and it was $1.76 cheaper. They are shunners because they have never had to go without, like I have. Unfortunately, I’m facing the coldest winter, the one where we collectively learn to go without, with them as my teammates. No longer comparing the price of many different options of food, but relentlessly hunting for any food. Fortunately, though, they will be my only competition when shit starts to get real. It’s only been three days so far since we were surprised by the blast that threatened humanity. The blast that killed many and left others, shunning them as if they were plain label OJ. We were lucky to survive, now we have to prove that we are worthy, go on world, shake us up and have a taste. Some of us are pulp free, while others leave slimy strings in your mouth.

It’s been three days of listening to them complain. Gratitude isn’t their strong suite. Both have already finished their tiny scraps that we were able to salvage. I still have a lot up my sleeve, a lot as defined by this new world, which is not enough as defined by the old world. I’m not prepared to share. Sure, if we happen upon a smorgasbord, I will quietly consume some of my rations, while adding to my stash, of course. The odds of a smorgasbord surfacing is slim to none, matching the odds of them drinking plain OJ.

On the fourth day, we hit the jackpot. I can almost hear the sound of a slot machine spitting out earnings, chink, chink, chink. A salad packaging plant stands before us, practically winking because the building is missing one side. We check for other scavengers and there are none. Once we enter, I hear a freezer hum to life, and for a moment, I think that I am dreaming. They rush to the freezer, of course, anxious to see the contents that were kept cold inside. I stay back, and begin to eat directly from the factory belt, the lettuce isn’t completely bad yet, but it’s far too wilted for them to eat. I know what it takes to survive, I only wish that I had a glass of OJ to wash down this rabbit’s meal.