It's amazing that he remembers the first time he went to a soup kitchen. After all, he was stoned out of him mind when he showed up.
Sometime in the '60s, and don't ask him when exactly, he and his hippie buddies had been smoking some ganja one of them smuggled back from a vacation in Jamaica. It was good stuff. Amazing stuff. More potent than anything he had tried before, which probably explained why he had the worst case of The Munchies he had ever experienced.
Unfortunately, five dudes stoned in one apartment for at least three days tends to deplete the food supply pretty damn quick. He sat there for some time -- don't ask him how long -- before his hunger started to get so bad it was killing his buzz. He grabbed Moondog's wallet, hoping to find some cash. After all, Moondog paid for the trip to Jamaica with money from his rich parents. The damn thing was empty. Dude, that's harsh, he thought.
So he headed out with no cash, hoping he could shoplift some crap from one of the markets down on Bleeker. And that's when he saw it -- The Immaculate Heart of Mary Food Bank. Three things he loved: Money, food, and women. He hoped Mary wouldn't be one of those girls that would make him buy her beer before she would share her stash with him.
But the sign outside lied. There was no cash and all the chicks were ugly. He doubted any of them were named Mary. That being said, there was food. Lots of it in a part of the building they called "The Soup Kitchen." He could eat as much of it as he wanted, and he ended up eating quite a bit. It was really The Munchies to end all munchies. Then he realized he didn't have money to pay for any of it.
"Psst," he said to an ugly Not Mary across from him. "I didn't bring cash so I need to sneak out. Will you be my lookout?"
The Not Mary gave him a weird look. "Honey, this is a soup kitchen. The food is free."
Free food? Amazing! "Free? Oh yeah, man...far out," he said, leaning back in his chair, trying to look suave like Sean Connery in that new Bond movie.
The Not Mary kept staring at him, then picked up her tray, got up, and sat down in another seat on the other side of the room.
*** *** ***
Things had changed since then. He left New York after he and his friends were evicted when they couldn't pay for rent with pot. That was fine with Creed -- he didn't want to have a landlord that hated marajuana. He ended up hitchhiking until he made it to some crappy town in Pennsylvania where he did some odd jobs before working for a paper company behind a desk.
It was a good job with decent pay. Plus, he had dropped the pot habit in exchange for mung beans in his desk drawer. That being said, he could never fully shake the hippie nomad out of him so rather than getting an apartment, he just decided to sleep under different desks at work.
"Good night, Creed," said the receptionist as he walked out of the office that night.
"Night, Peggy," he answered. Man, she has nice boobs.
He walked out into the cool air and headed to the Scranton Soup Kitchen a few blocks away. He didn't care what the people who ate there said about the meals. Nothing could beat the taste of free food, and tonight was the best. Mashed potatoes and gravy!
"How are you, Nancy?"
The woman behind the check-in counter looked up. "Hi Creed! It's good to see you."
He always enjoyed the way she smiled at him when he greeted her by name. For some reason, the people at his office always gave him a weird look when he addressed them as if he was calling them by the wrong name or something. That girl in accounting had a particularly pissed off look whenever he said her name. He once had to stop himself from yelling at her, "If your name's Andrea and you don't like it, that's not my fault!"
He got his tray and had to suppress a laugh as he got to the mashed potato station. Dick was manning it that night and anytime he saw Dick, he thought of penises and that one time when Moondog went streaking down Bleeker St. after they bought a new bong. Good times, good times.
He took a seat with his posse -- Turtle, Rainbow, Sun Catcher, and Larry -- and started digging in. Unlike the people at his office, he truly considered the soup kitchen posse his family. They laughed at his stories or cried on his shoulder or got pissed off and walked out in a huff, only to come back the next day to apologize. It was like any other family.
And just like any family dinner, there was always good conversation. Turtle complained he couldn't get a date [as usual], Rainbow bitched about the place she was living in [it was condemned], and Sun Catcher had another story about a bad trip she was on sometime in the '60s. Creed knew what that was like.
He cleaned off his tray and put it on the stack as Rainbow headed into the back for dish duty. Creed felt bad for her -- dish duty always sucked on a mashed potato night. That being said, tomorrow night was his turn and he was mightly pleased considering chicken was on the menu. Dish duty was always so easy when the menu included dried out chicken.
Taking a ten out of his pocket, he paid Larry for a fresh supply of mung beans. Larry was the best mung bean dealer in town, that was for sure. He tucked them into his coat and walked back to the office.
The lights were out when he got there and he had to fumble in the dark to get his key in the lock. Of course, no one knew he had a key. He swiped it from his boss, Marvin Scarn, so he didn't have to sleep in his car anymore. Marvin had to have that uptight Janine from corporate bring him a new one.
Creed quietly closed the door behind him and walked over to his desk, dropping his coat next to the chair. The computer was still on so he looked at porn for a few hours and watched some fuzzy TV show in the break room. Then he took off his clothes and folded them neatly in his bottom drawer. He grabbed his pillow, blanket, and alarm clock, and decided to curl up under Dwayne's desk for the night.
He couldn't wait for tomorrow morning. Dick always made the best blueberry pancakes.
Story Notes:
Thanks to hugs and fwf for the beta requests.
This is in response to hiatusathon and was requested by neverenoughjam, who wanted to know why Creed goes to the local soup kitchen. Hope I fulfilled the request!
sharky is the author of 26 other stories.
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