Midnight Munchies

I enter the store. Glad to be out of the snow storm. I scrape my feet against the floor and brush the snow off my thick duffel coat. I tug off my hat and scarf, enabling me to breath again. I look behind me to what I had just come from to see nothing but pure white. The outside is a whisper. I can almost hear the cold. I grab a basket and I walk on. I shiver then slowly walk down an aisle, then another. I walk down each aisle looking for my craving. 

***

My sleep had been disrupted by my hunger. I had woken up; he was laid beside me snoring. It had become unbearable. I had opened my bedside drawer, empty. I’d laid a while longer, decibels increasing. I’d checked the drawer again, still empty. My tummy had joined in the chorus, it was no good.

My very much awake self needed Oreos. 

***

Eventually, I find the biscuits aisle. I skim through each shelf. I finally come across the Oreos. I am overjoyed to see that they are reduced to 50p. I grab as many packets as I can and drop them into my basket. Content that my mission is complete I head over to the checkout. The store is strangely quiet and empty. I don’t know if I have actually seen another person in here yet. I did hear quiet crying earlier on, but I think that may have been just me. 

I carry on. I walk up to the checkouts, there is no-one there. They may have just gone for a break. I remember I need milk. Surely the time it takes for me to find milk and come back they’ll be someone at the tills. I scuffle back down the aisles, looking up at the signs, looking for milk. I walk down the correct one. It’s cold, and I am reminded of the journey here. I pick up a two litre bottle of semi skimmed milk. I suddenly hear cries. I check, and it’s definitely not me this time. I put the milk in my basket and proceed to seek out where the cries are coming from. 

I follow the sound and end up at the corner of the supermarket. I see a baby, bottom shelf. A baby on its own, on the bottom shelf. I look around and there’s no one about. If I wasn’t ever so slightly nervous about being in this store alone at this time of night, I sure am now. I can’t leave now. I wonder how the baby got here. I slowly move closer, it’s more of a whimper than I cry now. I am too tired and scared to pick up the baby. It looks safe, maybe mum is just looking down the next aisle. I walk away hesitantly to go and find someone, anyone.

I walk to the other end of store to find a slightly ajar door labelled STAFF. I peer around and gently push open the door. There’s a sweet smell, followed by a trail of smoke. I then see a scruffy looking man in his mid 20’s wearing a store staff polo shirt smoking what doesn’t seem like your ordinary cigarette. He looks over, his eyes glazed. I can’t find anyone else so he’ll have to do, however I am secretly relieved that I’m not alone in this store. I look at his staff badge, DYLAN. I frantically tell him about the baby. 

I, irritated, ask, “Dylan, were you aware there’s a baby abandoned in your store?” 

He, confused, replies, “huh.”

I am way too tired and hungry for this. Sighing angrily, I gesture the way. He follows reluctantly. As we walk he stares at my basket. Is he eyeing up my Oreos? I make it obvious and move my basket away from him, I have made too much of an effort to get here, during a blizzard. I refuse to give up my Oreos! He pouts. As we pass the crisps aisle I grab him the biggest bag of Tortilla Chips. He grins, opens them up and tips them into his wide open mouth. The sight of tortilla crumbs in his beard amuses me. I chuckle. His attack of the munchies is greater than even mine. 

His eyes widen as we get closer to the baby’s cries. He starts to scream in panic. He looks at me, then back at the baby in horror. 

He yells at me, “There’s a baby!”

I roll my eyes, “No shit.” I respond sarcastically. 

He takes out his phone, looks at it intensely for a moment then slowly dials 999. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that. He sinks down to the floor and stares up at the ceiling holding tight onto his bag of Tortilla Chips. We wait patiently, I am captivated by his oddity. He is now completely covered in tortilla crumbs. Tortilla pieces are caught in his messy hair, the collar of his polo shirt and even on his shoes.

The police arrive shortly after. We hear them speed walking through the store. We see them from the other end of the aisle, we wave, signally them over. We notice the babies cries have now stopped. They rush over, and gently pick up the baby.

They soon become frustrated. They ask sternly, “Is this a joke?”

I, confused by their anger, ask, “What do you mean?” 

They drop the baby back on the shelf. Dylan and I gasp in outrage. Dylan rushes to pick up the baby, but accidentally pulls off its arm. We both scream in horror. I look over to the police officers to catch them laughing. I am both horrified and confused. Dylan starts crying and apologises endlessly to the baby. He tries to reattach the arm by shoving it against the baby’s shoulder. 

I stare at the police officers in confusion.

They reply, “This baby is a toy.”

I am stunned. I chuckle. “Oops, my mistake officers.” 

They look at me unimpressed and leave the supermarket. 

As I leave I notice other staff moving out from the confectionary aisle, both looking dishevelled. I shake my head in disbelief. 

I am beyond embarrassed by my mistake. My eyes were so sleepy it was an honest mistake to make, although I’m wide awake now and clearly see the toy aisle brimming with sleeping babies, amongst other toys. I should probably head home soon, my boyfriend is probably wondering where I am. 

My thoughts are interrupted by crunching sounds. I look over at Dylan to see him munching on my Oreos. I am fuelled with anger, I go to snatch them back when my tummy starts to feel funny. There’s a lump in my throat. I quickly grab a sandcastle bucket from the promotion basket and throw up. 

Morning sickness has kicked in.