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Writer's pictureKirk McCready

Dumpster Dive: Hot Bread

Don't judge a loaf by its crust.
dumpster dive hot bread about to be eaten

Most people who went to college and didn’t totally fuck it up were fortunate to get an entry level job upon graduating. Most of those people, myself included, landed a job that didn’t pay well but kept me from having to move back home. The pay allowed me to live in a row home in Manayunk with my friend Tom and one of his friends. It was a house where we had not one, but two couches, and just enough money leftover from our paychecks for the bar tab.


Given that the primary life needs were covered, somewhere to sit, sleep, and something cold to drink, it did not leave a lot of room for anything else. Food for example.


Our house had no food in it. I should say, it had none of mine and Tom's food. Our roommate and his girlfriend, who were much more responsible and took care of themselves, had plenty of food.


Upon occasion what Tom did have was a single loaf of off brand bread.


After one particularly enthusiastic night at our local bar, Castle Roxx, we made the 7 mile climb back to our house at the highest peak in all of Manayunk. As I grabbed a seat on the couch next to Tom he proceeded to pull a loaf of bread from under the coffee table, take out a slice of plain bread, and pour some hot sauce on it.


I stared at him for a few beats trying to comprehend what I was seeing. He went back for a second slice, poured hot sauce on it, and proceeded to dig in. With his glazed eyes staring ahead and methodical chewing he reminded me of a cow chewing its cud.


“Tom, what are you doing?” I asked.


He turned his deadeye stare towards me. “Hot Bread” Tom said. He didn’t explain or even really need to. I proceeded to mock him like a dick for this basic, seemingly poor choice of a late night snack. Unfazed he finished his second slice, turned his unblinking stare away from me, and reached in for another slice of bread.


By the fourth slice, my pride had evaporated. I reached for the bread and Tom passed me the hot sauce. For a drunk person with no money let me tell you, it was surprisingly satisfying. I didn’t have the courage to apologize for shitting on him mere moments ago so it’s a credit to Tom's character that he didn't say anything. As I contentedly grunted through my first slice, those dead eyes found mine again.


“Hot Bread”.


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