Twinkies are one of life's greatest treasures. Soft, golden cake stuffed with creme. It's a delicacy. The crisp sound the plastic makes when you pull it apart. The sweet air rushing into your nose as it escapes. You inhale deeply - your brain thrilled by the aroma. You swallow, your mouth threatening to drown itself in saliva before you even bring the pastry up to your lips, a smile spread upon them. Yes, this is heaven. You know that you should take your time, as if you are making love. Sweet, delicate love. Temptations rush over you to just take the twinkie and eat it in two large bites, but you know better. You can't rush love. You swallow again as you finally pull the cake from its wrapper. So close. The time has come for you and the pastry to finally begin your --.
"Stewart! Stewart Wallace Morton! Yooohoo! Stewart!" Your mother calls from downstairs. You've never liked her; her and her shrill voice. You stare at the twinkie in your hands as it begs you to eat it, but Evelyn keeps calling you. "Stewart! Stewart, you get your bottom down here this instant!"
Gently, you slide the twinkie back in its wrapper and lay it on your desk. "Another time, my love," as you lift yourself from the wooden chair, brush your pants off, and then turn to leave the room. The poster on the door stares at you; the magician girl's orange eyes taunting your very existence. Your dark eyes glare at her as your reach for the door knob and quickly pull it open, the girl no longer allowed to taunt you any longer.
"Stewart!"
"I'm coming, Mother!" Your voice travels through the small home, bouncing off the clutter in the floor.
"Stewart!"
You ignore her as you cross the kitchen and make your way into the living room. Evelyn is sitting comfortably in the recliner, a cat in her lap. In her hand is the remote control. "Stewart, something's on the news that you're not gonna like much. I paused it for ya."
Immediately, you start to regret coming down here. Who watches the news these days? You watch as your mother slowly picks up the remote and presses play; the television immediately responding.
"The end of Twinkies may just be hours away..."
Your heart sinks. The hispanic woman on the screen, with her low-cut blouse can't even hold your attention anymore. You shake your head is disbelief.