The City of Brotherly Love, Part 8: A Worthy Quest

Time: 1:12AM on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning
Place: a poorly organized bodega under the el tracks in Olde Kensington, Philadelphia.

Enter two somewhat inebriated men, high five-ing one another. A portly, older woman missing a considerable amount of teeth sits behind the counter. The men approach her.

Man 1: Do you have any macaroni and cheese?
Woman:  No mac.
Man 2 (visibly dejected):  Oh no. 
Man 1: Where’d it go? Who buys all my mac’n’cheese?
Woman: I throws it out at 11PM. Yous guys gotta come earlier.
Man 1: But we weren’t drunk earlier!
Woman: Yous guys don’t want that mac’n’cheese, it sits there from 8AM til 11PM. 
Man 1: That is precisely why we want it. It’s freaking delicious.
Woman (frowning): If the police came in here and seen it right now, we’d get arrested.
Man 1: Wait, how come when I come in here on nights when the other lady is working there’s mac’n’cheese?
Man 2: Yeah! We got some last week!
Woman: She probably don’t be follering the rules. Which one is she?
Man 1: She’s got her hair pulled back usually. Black hair?
Woman: Which one? Points to picture of all the people I’ve ever seen behind the counter posing at the counter together.
Man 1: Leans in, does drunk squint thing, points. Her!
Woman: That’s my daughter.
Man 1: Oh no! You’re going to tell her to start throwing out the mac’n’cheese now aren’t you?
Woman: We haves to for the cops and the city.
Man 2: Dude I’m hungry.
Man 1: I’ve got half of a hoagie at home we could turn into two smaller halves and then eat.
Man 2: What kind?
Man 1: Italian.
Man 2: Deal.
Man 1: Ma’am, please reconsider your mac’n’cheese policy. Or give me the recipe?
Woman: Haw haw, no ways. Yous have a good night.
Man 1: Do you need us to organize anything? Last time I helped organize the Vitamin Water.
Woman: Naw, yous guys stay outta the rain. 

The men linger a moment longer, perhaps in an attempt to see if she has been lying this whole time and there is in fact macaroni and cheese available for purchase. Seeing no change in the cashier’s cockeyed demeanor, they exit the store slowly, thoughts of penne, cheddar, and grease dancing through their brains.