ON HOLD
#𝟏 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐌𝐚𝐧
"Witnesses have made statements of seeing you with the wanted vigilante Spider-Man, so what we would like to know is whether or not these allegations are true."
"Half the city of New York has been seen with Spid...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I've never been good at grocery shopping. I'm always worrying too much about if I'll actually eat this or is that even food, and everything in between. I'm not a calorie watching carb kind of girl, no, quite the opposite actually. I love food, and I love eating said food. I just find the waste of food sort of alarming. You have a bunch of canned peas and green beans in your pantry that you haven't used once and you're like, "Oh yea, I'll get to it." But the truth is, you never will, and you might as well just donate it to the homeless.
I have a rule when I'm grocery shopping; if you won't eat even a little of it within two weeks, why get it? You want a bag of Cheetos while you're craving them, yea? You get home and suddenly you want a fresh pot of mac and cheese instead. If you don't think you'll open that bag of Cheetos within two weeks, it was a waste of money. That's why I don't buy food for a month, but only for a few weeks instead.
But I'm struggling more now than ever before. What do I buy a web-slinging, wall-crawling, half-spider almost twenty-year-old man that I barely know? Do I buy him a bunch of insects from the animal store, or does he just eat like a normal guy? Does he want a sub? Does he like milk or is he picky about his chips?
None of these questions would be answered and the simple reason is that about two hours ago, I got a call from that same unknown number. I answered it, listening to the sirens and punches going back and forth as Peter asked, "Do you mind grabbing some groceries on your way home?"
It didn't quite sound like that though. No, it was hysterical really, and I could imagine him in his spandex suit with a phone to his ear, ninja kicking whoever he was up against. It sounded more like, "MJ! Hey! Do you-- Haha! Not so fast... Sorry, I'm still here. Do you mind grabbing some-- Whoa there baldy! Sorry MJ! Can you grab groceries on your way home?" And then suddenly the line went dead after a loud crashing noise, and I can only assume that the phone was crushed. Poor Peter.
It's been about a day since the helicopter fiasco in The Queens Report, and I told Bushkin that I'd start next Monday as I needed some time to myself. The entire building basically agreed with me, and I stayed at home last night just staring at a wall. In the span of a week my life has turned upside down, and I can only sense that it'll continue this way for a while. So long as Spider-Man is an acquaintance of mine, I'll never get out of this never-ending loop of crime and interference.
Peter didn't come home last night. At least, if he did, he was extremely quiet, and it didn't go as loud and random as it did a few days ago. When I woke up today after getting about three hours of sleep, he was gone again, his room still locked tight. Yes, I checked. I'm nosey and I don't care.
But now, I'm standing in the middle of a small market on the corner from the apartment, staring at the frozen section like I have no idea what a fridge is. My long, auburn hair's sitting neatly on my back, away from distracting my train of thought. It's been warmer in a weird way, so I've had the pleasure of throwing on a tight t-shirt and some jeans, a pair of sneakers to match and calling it a day. But somehow, I'm still uncomfortable. The basket that's hanging from my arm is hanging in just the wrong way, and my feet are starting to sweat under my thin socks.
