40 Pupusas

A monologue by Julia Tran. 

Mikayla: So I barely have a gastrointestinal system. My stomach hurts 24/7 and the doctors don’t really know what’s going on, but that’s alright. I’m used to it. I’m used to the pain. Crippling pain. (holds stomach) My diet consists of chocolates and Ruffles. Whenever I’m hungry, I always ask my friends for Ruffles. Scratch that, I beg them for Ruffles. I scream to the heavens for them. If it wasn’t for my overbearing pain and the legality of the situation, I would break into the Ruffles factory and stay there overnight. (beat)  I had big dreams. (beat) There are special occasions where I eat food that isn’t processed though. There’s this little mom and pop place near the school I attend, and every Wednesdays, they sell pupusas for a dollar. My favorite price for food, besides free ninety nine. But cents are too hasslesome. One Wednesday, my friends and I went after school. Actually, three of us went, but we were supposed to get pupusas for six people. We’ll meet up after. We did the math: 3 for me, 2 for her, 3 for him, 2 for her, 2 for her, and 1 for him. That’s…3 plus 2 plus 3 plus 2 plus 2 plus 1…13! So we ordered the 13 pupusas. They must have thought we were nuts, 13 pupusas for only three people. That’s just how we roll, and we rolled all the way to the library, and sat at this neat little spot outside, and started to divide up the smorgasbord. 13 pupusas were packed into three containers. Three containers. Two plates. Two forks. One napkin. For the three of us. Oh wait, nope, the six of us. We couldn’t stop laughing. Was this an excuse to be the barbaric eaters we have kept hidden for so long? Anyways, we were hungry. We opened up all the boxes, took what we ordered, and tried to create makeshift plates out of one box, although I ended up eating out of a plastic bag. That was a first. I got a fork though! It was delicious…better than Ruffles. Not the fork, the pupusas. Our food was gone pretty quickly, and we realized by the time we had cleaned off our “plates” that none of our friends had come to pick up their food. Here we were, with forty pupusas, outside, the weather now windy, with no more food to distract us from their absence. (get hammy) We had journeyed through treacherous terrain for their pupusas, had waited in harsh winds for their pupusas, had done math for their pupusas. We had suffered enough. The phones were out, we started calling, started texting, started shouting out into the wind. ‘Where are you? Come get your pupusas!’ We called their names. ‘Johnny! Leila! Andres!’ We even called names that weren’t theirs. ‘MARCOOOO!’ Yet to no avail. I felt betrayed, deceived, lied to. I started a vlog: (mime holding a phone) “Hey everyone, we are on hour three of this expedition. Not sure if that’s the right word to use, but I’m using it. I have gone through so much, I am holding these pupusas hostage until the right people come. Alone. Well, comment your favorite food, and make sure to give us a like. Love you!” To pass the time, we played tag like we were ten, ate some of the salad that was originally saved for them, and danced around the marble table outside of a quiet library. It was the end of the world, and hour ten when we finally got a response from them. “Hey, can’t make it. Give my pupusas to someone else, thank you.” I love them though. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized that I didn’t feel it. Despite all the pupusas I ate, all the salad I stole, the stomach pains didn’t ache. It murmured, but wasn’t shouting for dear life. Maybe my diet should just solely consist of pupusas now. I went home to tons of homework, AP Chemistry and AP Calculus which I didn’t really get, and this and that and this and babysitting. Maybe the trick to forgetting about your current troubles, the big concerns, is to distract yourself with smaller ones. And how do you create smaller ones? Buy thirteen pupusas.