My Dearest Noodles

I - How it all began

Yes, a cheesy beginning chapter's title, however I can't think of anything more fitting. Not only is it the start of my journey, but it is the start of many things indeed. And the first for a lot, too. All stemming from a simple and ordinary situation.
Let me paint the picture:
It'd been a long day. Not that such feelings of each our ticking by at the passing rate of weeks were out of the ordinary for me, but I digress.
Feeling too mentally and physically drained to cook anything particularly large or extravagant, I simply opened a cupboard and pulled out a plastic container, flicking on the kettle and perching on the counter as I waited for the water to bubble and boil. My legs swung childishly, but I had nothing else much to do, and staying still just didn't feel right. It was as if I had to do something in order for time to pass, of that makes any logical sense at all. Then I peeled the foil off the previously-mentioned container with haste yet caution. I didn't want to rip it completely off its fragile and temporary hinges, after all.
Steam began to protrude from the kettle. The switch then automatically switched off.
At that moment, I grabbed it by the handle, pouring it into the plastic cup-shaped object without a seconds delay. It's safe to say that I was extremely lucky as to not burn myself on the scalding water. Once I had finished, I placed the kettle back into its rightful place. Next I placed my in-the-process-of-cooking Pot Noodle beside me on the counter, leaping off it before rooting through a nearby drawer. From that I retrieved a fork.
The waiting game started again.
The unseeable yet eternal clock continued its work as always. Impeccable work, as always. Never stopping, no matter the situation.
Amber rays ran along the surface of the windowsill, skipping along the countertops and lying across the floor. Not even the walls were safe from a golden tint being cast upon them. Not even I, who shielded my eyes when I followed their path from where they came. Patience is a virtue, they say. Yet it is a virtue I do not possess. With the opposite of patience, I grazed my fingers absentmindedly along the smooth marble behind me, glancing at the wafts and clouds of grey vapour escape from my small meal, which was chosen out of laziness. This isn't making myself as a character appear all that great now, is it?
Well, in that moment, I didn't care. I was hungry, and my food was taking its sweet time to cook. As I said, I was impatient. That wasn't going to change soon.
As I waited further, I began to tap anything I could. Creating and finishing a tune perhaps would help time pass quicker than without, unless I was not absorbed in such action, in which case it'd take longer. Time's a strange thing, isn't it? Whenever you want it to go slowly, it seems to speed up, and vice-versa for whenever you want it to go quickly. It's almost as if it's against us as individuals. Speaking of, people think that different periods of time go quickly, but others think that the same period goes slowly. Isn't that strange? As a species we've progressed so much, yet haven't found the mystery behind such thoughts, have we?
Well, maybe we have. I can't say I do much research. These small trains of thought I have are quite fleeting, and appear every so often.
Two minutes total had passed. That was the time it said on the side of the cup for how long it'd take.
With that almost ingrained into my memory, I snatched the cup off the counter and stirred the contents with my fork sloppily. As if to portray the reason why with impeccable timing, my stomach clenched and growled. If I were to identify a cause for that, which I couldn't, my guess'd be the smell. Yes, the smell of the noodles were amazing. Fantastic. Too good to be true!
Yet, as far as I could and can tell, such a product is 'true'.
Speaking of, what is the definition of 'true' in this context? If it's talking about the truth itself, then how so can something be 'too good to be true'? Is it because of a series of bad events has led up to that moment, leading to pessimistic thoughts? Or is it simply when an idea deemed so great that if it came to pass it'd be doubted? Then why did I use it in this context?
Well, who cares about that? I didn't even wait to reach the table before I began to dig in. However I did have to momentarily separate from such a simple delicacy when I did sit down, and upon doing so, dived back in once again. The mix of flavours in such a small area is unbelievable, stupendous! Whoever made these must be a millionaire!
Too absorbed in my gorging, I wasn't focussed on my surroundings. That is a huge retreat of mine. One of my biggest, if not the biggest. All other times, it was fine to only focus on continuous shovelling of the truly delicious noodles into my mouth, but this time. This time wasn't like the rest.
The only sign I got of the other entity in the room was husky, seductive whispering beside me. The vibrations of the voice speaking was smooth like the noodles I was eating at that moment. A lovely voice indeed. Yet it was so sudden that I was startled- wasn't in the right mindset to turn and see the intruder in order to expose them for that crime, and the one they were about to commit.
Between the still ongoing slurping of my food being eaten, I managed to make out what it was uttering:
"Skidaddle, skidoodle-"
Before you ask, yes, I am positive that those words were said in that voice, if they could even be called 'words'. After all, they were in no dictionary, so to this day I am unsure of their true meaning.
"Your noodle is now a dick."
Horror filled my vision and gaze as I stared down at my noodles. To my relief, they were normal. Then I blinked, and behind those almost deceiving eyelids of mine, and much to my despair, those noodles now in front of me were no longer noodles.
They were miniature dicks.
That was when I turned around, about to express my complete and utter discontent at this situation and also to see the face and expression of who I deemed to be a mocking fiend, only to be greeted with the section of the room behind me. Once I glanced down to see any trace of what they'd left, I saw but a single noodle on the ground. It mocked me. That one single noodle taunted me over my foolishness in not hearing out for such an evildoer. I couldn't stand the pressure of its gaze and grin, and so spring out of my chair, swinging the door wide open and sprinting as if for my life towards the front door to my house. Yet I was greeted with the same, unwanted answer as when I looked for the identity of that being just before, at my table.
There was no trace of an entrance or exit for that person. That stayed true no matter where in my house I looked.
Out of shock and sorrow, I collapsed to my knees in my hall after searching every nook and cranny that could be used for hiding or leaving.
"Damn it!"
My voice cracked as it cried out, throat dry and raspy from the amount of running and searching I had just done, all with no drink to reward it all.
"Damn it all! And damn you!"
Yes, damn that maleficent magician who somehow got in and out of my house, and ruined my well-deserved, ordinary yet spectacular dinner with no prior warning nor motive.
It was in that grief-stricken moment in which I was struck by the desire of revenge. The desire to avenge my noodles' and my own glory and honour. Yes. I will unmask such a menace, and prove to them that they picked the wrong target! That they should never have unleashed such a curse, on my dinner, and upon themselves.