It’s 4 in the morning, the end of December

Ok, actually, it’s 1 in the morning, the end of December, but that is not a line from one of my favorite songs.

Regardless, I’m writing you now, because I think I may be dying, but I’m not sure.

See, this morning I pulled an unopened package of extra-firm organic tofu from the fridge. The expiration date: today. I noticed that the plastic covering the tub was a bit puffed out, which made me wonder a little, but I decided to open it and do a sniff test.

It smelled perfectly fresh, so I decided to eat it. I don’t know why I decided that, because I’m usually quite paranoid about food poisoning, but it’s too late to go back and change my mind now. I pan-fried it in olive oil, doused it with teriyaki sauce, and ate five or six cubes of it. Only then did I think, wait, maybe I shouldn’t eat tofu from a puffed-out package.

So I consulted Professor Google, and as I’m sure you have already concluded, Professor Google told me no, absolutely no, do not eat tofu from a puffed-out package. I discarded the remaining (delicious) pan-friend teriyaki tofu and commenced waiting to die.

Since death did not seem to be imminent, I went about my life as if I were going to live. I walked to the library. I visited Starbucks. I wasted time on Facebook and argued (fruitlessly) with strangers on the comment boards of The Atlantic. I even made plans for New Year’s Eve as if I would be alive to see it.

All day I monitored my internal state. When I felt hungry, I ate, knowing full well I would probably barf it all up. I drank a lot of water and tea, to dilute the poison.

The day wound to a close and here I am, at 1 (1:17 now, actually) in the morning, still not dead. Unfortunately, Professor Google did not tell me how long it would take to die of puffed-out tofu poison, so it could still be lingering, skulking about, plotting a sneak attack.

At this point, I think I will live through the night. I’m hungry, in fact, but I’m not going to eat now. Snacking in the middle of the night is a bad habit, and just in case I survive, I don’t want to develop any (new) bad habits. And in case I really am going to die tonight, it seems like, aesthetically speaking, it would be better to do it on an empty stomach.

If you do not hear from me again, my friends, thanks for reading. But I will try to contact you again tomorrow, either from this world or the next. Bon soir.

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9 thoughts on “It’s 4 in the morning, the end of December

  1. This is just a delightful piece: gelatinous black humour and a consistent foreboding tone start to finish. Reminds me of my vife, vho’d rather me suffer a horrible headache in the middle of the night than, G-d forbid, take perfectly good Advil a day after the sell-by,
    I just live on expired here, The car,its insurance, various licenses, clothes from the 70s and food from not too much more recent times.
    So I say fear not, dear. That puffy-ness is just a sign of life in the stuff.
    (This post does, though, recall your previous on the free-‘sale’ idea. I’m vondering vhat the policy is there on foods and the stamped dates.,

  2. Your mortician applauds your decision to have an empty stomach although if you choose to be cremated, it probably doesn’t matter. Please add an edit so we all know which direction you want to go…I mean buried or burned not heaven or hell :0
    Great post!

    • Hm, well, I guess I don’t have a preference because, you know, I’ll be dead. That decision should be made by loved ones. They are the ones to whom it matters.

      However, as you can see, I didn’t die. Let’s hope that state of affairs continues.

  3. Pingback: New Year, Same as the Old Year | Transvestite Rabbit

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