Tom woke up with the mother of all headaches. His first coherent thought was that he shouldn't have mixed sriracha with expired instant noodles. Then, bits and pieces of the previous, thoroughly ridiculous day came flooding back.
He sat up, wincing. Every muscle screamed in protest from his less-than-heroic battle with Ramendan the Terrible. To top it all off, his apartment hadn't magically cleaned itself like in a video game. He was surrounded by noodles – half-cooked, dried up, and smelling rather unpleasant. Awesome.
His gaze landed on the fortune cookie. "The path to greatness begins with a single slurp." This had to be a joke.
"Yeah, yeah. First gotta find the path to my bathroom without stepping on anything crunchy," Tom grumbled. He tentatively maneuvered toward the door, only to freeze. He'd forgotten something critical.
Tom crouched down, carefully parting the noodle carpet to search for the blue loot box. There it was, half-submerged in a puddle of dubious sauce. Gingerly plucking it open, he felt a surge of childish excitement. Would it give him a legendary fork? Some kind of spicy super shield?
Instead, the box flashed brightly and produced...a crumpled receipt. He unfolded it, squinting.
Instant Ramen (Family Pack): £4.50*
Mystery Spicy Sauce: £1.39*
Good Fortune Cookie: £0.20*
TOTAL: £6.09*
That wasn’t just an item description, it was his shopping list. "Seriously?" he cried, staring at the crumpled paper. This was a reward? In an apocalypse? "Where's my refund?"
A low, throaty voice chirped behind him. Tom whipped around, a strangled squawk escaping his lips. On his dining table, nestled amidst spilled forks, sat a single, uncooked noodle perched perfectly upright. In its center, a pair of boiled egg slice eyes peered back shrewdly.
"Greetings, human," the noodle intoned. It bowed. Well, wobbled a bit awkwardly.
"Are…are you talking to me?" Tom found himself asking the obvious.
"Of course. Now, pay heed, for you must complete the Sacred Quest assigned to you by The Noodle Consciousness."
"The what now?" Tom was now sure he’d finally lost his mind.
The noodle cleared its noodly throat. "Behold!" Green text shimmered above the tiny ramen warrior.
QUEST: Deliver the Sacred Receipt Location: SuperMart – 0.7 miles Rewards: EXP, New Skills, Noodle Respect +1, ???
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The sight of floating video-game text should have caused panic. It didn't. This was beyond panic. "No. There's no way. None of this…" Tom squeezed his eyes shut. “When I open them, this stupid quest and talking noodle better be gone."
One… Two… Three…He cracked one eye open and promptly groaned. Not only was the text still there, the noodle had made itself a cup of tea - from an empty egg cup and questionable pantry water. He had gone crazy. This was it.
"Hey buddy, mind if I join you?" A deep rumbling voice filled the kitchen. In the doorway, silhouetted against the early morning light, stood the most glorious sight Tom had ever witnessed: his neighbor, Derek, clad in mismatched pajamas and carrying a baseball bat.
"Dude!" Tom's voice rose a few octaves. "My noodles – they're alive! They're organized! They have quests!" Relief swept through him. This wasn't his personal delusion; this was full-blown insanity. And as it turns out, way more manageable when shared.
—-------------
Derek blinked. "Wait, so your ramen tried to kill you? With forks?"
"And…and a giant meatball monster. Don’t forget the meatball…” Tom slumped against the doorframe. A noodle warrior giving him quests was one thing, explaining this to Derek – fit, rugby-playing Derek – was entirely another.
Derek scratched his head. “This, uh, wouldn’t happen to be related to those ‘experimental brownies’ you had last week, would it?”
"Hey, lay off the brownies," Tom mumbled defensively. Then realization hit. "Wait, your place too?"
"Nah, dude. Way weirder. My shower tried to eat me.”
Tom nearly tripped. “Your shower? Seriously?”
"Loofahs, man. Ruthless.” Derek eyed the noodle on the table, now slurping with gusto. "Listen, if ramen warriors are the tip of this iceberg, we best prepare ourselves.” He hefted the bat. “Noodlepocalypse training montage starting…now?”
Suddenly, the idea of facing the world alone didn’t seem so terrifying. And, let’s be honest, a talking noodle was much easier to manage with a skeptical shower-survivor at his side. “Sounds good,” he managed, trying to sound a little less hysterical.
A line of text popped into view above Derek’s head:
NEW PARTY MEMBER ACQUIRED: Derek (Tank)
“Sweet, I’m Tank!” Derek thumped his chest. “And you with that club yesterday? Maybe your class is… Noodle Barbarian?”
Tom laughed, an uneasy sound, but genuine. It felt good to have another human around, even if Derek had just acquired a class designation for fighting murderous bath accessories. "Yeah, Noodle Barbarian sounds about right." He eyed his still ramen-strewn kitchen. “First quest: find something sturdier than a table leg.”
A sense of purpose stirred in him. It was ridiculous, dangerous, and possibly born out of shared hallucination, but his quest log didn’t seem to care.
From his window, the street scene confirmed his worst fears. An overturned delivery van lay abandoned across the road, packages of various noodle brands piled in the gutter. Tiny figures dashed in and out, unmistakably sentient packets of Top Ramen with an unsettling gleam in their fishcake eyes.
A chilling chorus of squeaky battle cries drifted up to his window. The Noodle Overlords were regrouping. "The world needs us, Noodle Barbarian and Derek the Tank,” Tom said with newfound, if reluctant, determination. “Let’s gear up.”
He didn't look at the hovering quest markers. Maybe it was all in his head, a stress-induced delusion fueled by spicy sauce. Or maybe the world really had turned insane, and he was just insane enough to survive it. Besides, it wouldn't do to disappoint a sentient noodle waiting for its sacred receipt.