Bash Mendez must save his favorite snack food from getting ruined by being turned into a gluten-free, sugarless, tasteless, and ultimately useless food by the nation's most zealous health nuts.
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When Bash Mendez realizes...
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Bash Mendez grabbed at the air where, in his dream, floated a glistening, moist, pink vessel of soft bread filled with the creamiest cream on Earth: A Creamy Mimi. "Nom, nom, nom!" He yelled out. Then his hands moved like he was swimming underwater as he cleared off the shelves in the dream and came to the sudden deflating realization that there were, as he put it in the yell that woke him, "No more Creamys! Noooo!"
Opening his eyes, the dark room faded into view and he saw green numbers on the alarm clock said 2:45 AM. His stomach growled and he was sweating, though it was a chill sixty-nine degrees in his apartment. Goosebumps rose on his neck and back as he stepped out of bed. Once awake, he it would be impossible to go back to sleep with a grumbling stomach so he made his way to the kitchen and explored a Creamy with his tongue. "Oh my Gawd," he said with his mouth full. "You are so good."
When Bash was sad, angry, confused, or bored, he ate a Creamy. The consoling affects of the snack were legendary and known around the world. There were knockoff brands and he'd tried them, but nothing beat a real bona fied Creamy Mimi.
First introduced in a few grocery stores in 1952, the snack food became wildly successful and beloved when Blue Cigarettes' spokesman Bob Greenleaf died of lung cancer and requested Creamy Mimi's for his last meal.
That was followed by Pete Swammi of the Horned Frog baseball team touting Creamys in commercials as "The Food of Champs". Of course, health professionals balked at Pete's claim and pointed to the fact that the food had zero healthy ingredients. One doctor was quoted in the National Informer as saying Creamys were the most useless food on the planet. "It's debatable," the doctor said, "whether the lung cancer or the Creamy Mimi actually killed Bob Greenleaf."
When Barbara Waters interviewed Pete about his claim, his performance was nothing short of Emmy-worthy. Staring directly into the camera, Pete told America, "Creamy Mimi's are not a useless snack food. I know, I'm no doctor. I can't do surgery or count heart beats, but I do know one thing." Then at the bottom of the screen appeared a the top of a Creamy, which Pete slowly raised up and onto the screen while staying silent. Then he continued, "I know this ... this snack food, this lifesaver, this ... manna, if you will... completes me."
"Now Pete," interrupted Barbara. "When you say it completes you, what do you mean?"
"Barbara, I mean with a Creamy in my stomach, I feel like a whole man. The world is a better place. The sky is blue even if it's raining, even it's the worst day of my life. That day is better because my stomach acids are dining on the magic that is the Creamy Mimi."
Bash's dog stood at his feet like a calm beggar, awakened by the unmistakeable sound of food, which was the opening of the Creamy Mimi's plastic wrapper. "Hey, Buddha." He pat the dog's head. "Ok, ok, you can have one. But just one."
Reaching into the box of snacks, his eyes widened when his fingers crashed into the bottom. He moved his hand all around like a fish out of water flapping around, but the box was empty.
"Wanna go to the store?"
Buddha wagged his tail and Bash's phone lit up with a CNN Alert, and after he read it, and read it again, and then stared at it blankly, he pinched his arm. "Ow! That was too hard." Looking back at the phone, he said, "But it's real. I'm awake this time. It has happened.
"Buddha," he said to the black lab, "Creamy Mimi's are being taken off shelves nationwide. They're going away ... forever."
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