I sit in a dark room, staring at a bag of Takis. Only a candle separates us from each other. Petals form into a heart shape around us in the center of the bathroom. Light dances off the walls, making the petals a dark romantic red shade. Water droplets fall into the bathtub, making soft splashing noises.
I never had anyone else love me, except for this bag. And she’s beautiful.
I lean over and kiss the bag of Takis, already I can smell that familiar lemon-lime and cayenne pepper scent. My lips and tongue playing around with the plastic. I let out a slight moan. The bag kisses back, latching onto my lips.
I break the kiss, staring at the bag and its familiar crimson rolled tortilla chip logo.
I chuckle to myself, “You are a good kisser.”
I pick the bag up off the ground and set it into my lap. “You come from Barcel, don’t you.”
“Ok, then you do. Here, do you want to play a game?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. I change my deep voice into a high- pitched one as if a woman is talking back to me, “Yes, baby.”
I pull at the bag’s sides, my fingers making circles, as if teasing it.
I mock a deep feminine sigh, “Pull me open.”
And I did. I reach down, pulled a knife out of one of my pockets, and slash the thing open.
I drop the knife on the ground
I mock a feminine moan, then I reach my hands into the bag and pull out a handful of Takis. I take each one of the Takis and lift the up to my lips, then give a light kiss on each one, while moaning.
I kiss each one again, my moans of pleasure filling the air.
Behind me, I can hear my mother knocking on my door, “You okay in there?”
I continue to moan, then slide the rolled tortilla chips deep into my mouth.
The taste of pepper, lime, and other tangy spices fill my mouth, and then I begin to suck harder. The spice from the chips disappeared and I am left with a crunchy tortilla taste.
I begin to chew.
Mother’s knocks grow louder, “Michael?”
I ignore her, then —
The door drop starts to rattle. I force the rest of the uneaten tortilla chips back into the bag, my hands covered in red Taki dust. Mom’s got a lock picker.
Crap, I look like I killed someone! I stare at my hands, already covered in a blood-like color.
“Macie?” I turned my head back to the bag of Takis in my lap.
“I’m okay.” The bag replies.
“What? You can talk?” My eyes open wide. My brain running in circles, trying to figure out if the bag can actually talk.
“Yes, now hide me. Quick!”
I turn my head. I can hear the lock, slowly unlatching. My focus turns towards the counter at my left, I open the drawer and shove the Bag of Takis in.
A low reply, “Thank you!”
I close the drawer, blew out the candle, and everything under the rug with my boot.
I turn my gaze over to the door. I turned on the lights. The lock unlatched.
Before me, I see mother, her aged face turned into a worried concern. She looks at both directions, her short red hair bobbing in both directions, then looks at me, her green eyes meeting mine. “There’s no one in here?”
I shake my head, “I was just taking a dump.”
“I could’ve sworn, I heard a voice –” her focus turns towards a strange lump poking out of the rug. “What is that? Michael?”
Her voice grows more stern. I can tell she is mad.
“I — it’s nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me.” She bends over and slightly lifts up the rug revealing rose petals, a knife, and a candle. “Candles? Rose petals?”
“I swear it is nothing.”
I feel a lump in my throat and my voice rises with panic. What was I going to do? Tell mom that I am in love with a bag of Takis?
Mother picks the candle off of the ground, “Still warm,” then her eyes meet mine, “You have a girlfriend?”
My mind settles on one sentence, “I am in love with a bag of Takis.”
Mom raises her eyebrows.