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In Delirium: Lunch

A storm, with the spiraling might of a temporal hurricane, forced potent gales of wind against the Los Angeles County two-story, east-side suburban homes. Dark clouds forming low on the horizon grew threateningly. High into a graying sky the mass of vapors went until they all but eclipsed the midday sun.

A small light flickered in the corner of the frozen firmament like a beckon of hope in a forgotten world. – It was lunchtime! – Isaiahs stood in the kitchen staring into the refrigerator.

“I’m hungry/yes you are.”

What should we eat?

“Peanut butter and/grilled cheese sandwich!”

Yuck. “I feel sick/yes you do.”

Isaiahs continued to make themselves ill with thoughts of eating various combinations of gastronomic abominations until finally they heard the doorbell ring.

Clutching their stomach at the lower part of the “I” on their black and blue t-shirts,
Isaiahs shuffled slowly to the front door.

It flew wildly wide-open as if being pushed with a violent force.

“HeLLo, mY nAme is SiD/DaVe/FreD/BoB!”

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