Hot pockets

“I hate hot pockets!” Dean exclaimed, as he slammed his drink down on the table, sending a few droplets of wine soaring through the air. He also didn’t like pockets that were hot, but he thought this to be something rather confidential, so he thought it would be best if he’d keep it to himself.

Dean hated when his pockets would become hot, which often happened whenever he ate hot pockets, although his wife often told him that it was all in his head. He also hated the fact that his name wasn’t Dean, and that it was actually Nicholas. He’d always found it quite strange and curious that everyone he knew had called him Dean, for the simple fact that his name was Nicholas. It got to the point where Nicholas had to tell every new person he’d meet that his name was Dean, just so that he could keep things on an even keel, and so that he couldn’t raise further confusion.

“Dean, where’d you-”

“It’s Nicholas, dear.”

“Oh, fine then, Nicholas, where’d you put your towels.”

His wife wasn’t too keen on calling Dean Nicholas, because as far as she knew, Nicholas’s name was Dean, not Nicholas. Dean didn’t much mind if his wife called him by the wrong name however; he understood that with marriage came patience, and besides, he loved his wife, so his patience was undying, despite her inability to cope with the fact that his name was Nicholas.

“Anyways,” said Nicholas, who had just finished explaining a freak occurrence to one of his closest associates, who was sitting only two feet away from him. The freak occurrence that had happened was that Nicholas had been eating a hot pocket in the comfort of a recliner in his living room on a cold winters day, when suddenly, the insides of his pockets combusted into flames. Nicholas hadn’t even been sure that this actually happened; he couldn’t exactly remember it happening. He had just woke up one morning and knew it happened, and ever since then, has had a relentless fear of hot pockets, matched by a wicked hatred for the company who produced them, and anyone who worked in the company, including a distant cousin that he has. This discovery lead Nicholas to abandoning his distant cousin, claiming that he’s against Nicholas, hatching a plan to burn his pockets so that he would dispose of his really nice pair of pants, which his distant cousin working in the hot pockets company was really jealous of.

“Honey, I’m sure it’s all just in your head.” His wife said to him when he first explained his suspicion to her.

“I don’t have any honey in my head, dear!”

His wife sighed and walked away. “Oh, baby, you know I didn’t mean it, I know you’re not a deer.”

“There’d better not be any hot pockets in here,” He’d mumble to himself while opening gifts during Christmas. He’d curse under his breathe whenever his wife would hand him a present in the shape of a small box.

Nicholas took a nervous peak over his shoulder to glance behind him. He unloosened the top most buttons on his shirt and pulled on the collar a little. “And I’m onto everyone in here, too.” He whirled his finger around, pointing at the whole room he was in. “Always wearing white; Sometimes I wonder if I’m in heaven. I don’t even think that’s my wife.” Nicholas had suspicions like this for a long time; he hadn’t been sure why he’d been calling that lady his wife. He guessed he had done it to keep his suspicions on a low key, so that no one in that place would suspect that he suspected what they were up to; even though he didn’t, just like he didn’t have a clue who he was talking to, or that there was absolutely nothing in the cup he was holding, or that there was no cup at all.

“This place,” he said, leaning forward. “This place isn’t for the two of us. Me and you; we should break out of this place; what do you think?” A familiar lady entered the room with an expressionless face. “Nah,” Nicholas said, leaning back in his chair. “Who in their right mind would try and break out of heaven, even if they could?” He looked at the approaching lady, and held his hand up. “Honey, could you be so nice as to fill my cup, I ran out. Oh, and bring this nice young man something too.”

She left him sitting there, talking to an unoccupied seat two feet away from him, with a gleaming smile on his face.