The Hungry James
He sat there, starving. Mouth drooling from the distinct smell of the food being boiled and fried in the back room. His mouth salivating, wondering. The sweet aroma bellowing into his room barraging his nostrils with a scent so strong and sweet you can feel it. Sitting in his chair, staring blankly at an assortment of pixels that make up an obscure irrelevant moving imagine. He zones out, ignores the people talking from across the world. Ignoring their ranting and meaningless meandering. All attention focussed on the delightful scent. This delicate, fragile scent teeming and overflowing the small room. Sitting here, mindlessly contemplating the ambrosial food topped with an exquisite after taste that will linger in his mouth for hours to come. From the distinct smell of this food, it will be food fit for a king, a great delicacy, heavenly spread, a gastronomical delight. A piece of delicious food so sapid, with such a fervor that cannot be obtained by any other means of edible delicacies. Such a flavourful, savory food, with a strong succulent taste or subtle sweet and sour delight. Could this amazing smell be all imagined in the hopes of his famished dreams. Open ended dreams of endless amount of pavlovian inducing food. Or was this a real true smell nourishing and caring for his fragile nostrils? Was he just starving beyond belief so any food will do? Or will he only settle for what a god hungers, only for what a god deserves. Slowly slipping into unconsciousness from the dreams of this godlike meal he hears a faint calling from the nearby room.
"James, tea's ready!" His father called with a commanding tone, yet even though it was commanding it was still the greatest thing he'd heard all day. He shot up out of his chair and quickly ran into the next room, mind racing on all the savoury thoughts of his ideas for food. Every moment of every minute has led up to this moment. This idea, this juvenile thought of a perfect unachievable food. This great, godlike, mind created, imagined in a open thoughtful mind for the ideal food choice. A piece of food that can simply not be made, something illusory. Maybe you can think of it, and maybe you can draw up a perfect image of this food but it is simply not there. He ran into the kitchen expecting something beyond belief. Beyond the belief of any person with the highest hopes for something more. What he saw on the table caught him off guard. All this salivation, this drooling, quickly dissipated and evaporated into nothingness as the food his father had yielded for him quickly shot down any expectations. What was on the table would quickly change James' life forever. What sat on the table was a brown paper bag with the golden arches laced across the front. What was this food of his inconceivable dreams has become a small amount of greasy, rubbery food barely fit for the average homeless person. What he had dreamed so feverously for had ended up being a simple, cheap order of Mc Donald's.