They were the most brilliant minds that had ever stumbled across that threshold. The bottom floor of the Hazy Building of Dixie State College housed the mega-nerds. The ones efficient-izing our world using numbers, letters, and various symbols to advance technology as we know it; staring at screens, clicking their keyboards, and pausing every now and then to not use deodorant.
…they were brilliant creatures, and they set up base in “The Lab”. The Lab was everything to them. They used The Lab for their socializing, tutoring, hobby projects, side jobs, and every now and then they’d work on their own homework.
I got to be in this club because my Photoshop class granted me access to “The Lab”.
I gravitated in The Lab toward a group of four boys that smelled much nicer than their stereotypes suggested. Soon productivity in The Lab plummeted greatly due to everyone participating in our ridiculous discussions.
Like any computer lab that knows the consequences of Cheetos and white keyboards, food was strictly prohibited, which made for a hungry crew.
We took a break from distracting the masses and met one day out in the lobby. As fate would have it, we noticed that the side tables stationed between each squarish armchair were simply wood boxes with an open side on the bottom. The brilliance and creativity emanating from such a group could not overlook such a juncture. Good fortune had presented itself and it could not be ignored.
We made plans to turn this unassuming magic box into our secret snack station; like a pre-paid vending machine where none of your candy bars get stuck. All we had to do to transform this lowly piece of furniture into a food storage apparatus was to turn it on its side, concealing the open end next to the armchair.
One simply had to sit down all nonchalant, yet clumsily in the adjacent chair so that it would inch away from the table to create a hand-sized opening and bingo! A wealth of snacks and candy! (As far as the wealth of a few college students could afford, anyway.)
We kept this up for weeks, restocking now and again. Satisfying our grumbling stomachs had never been so convenient and laughable. Psychology says it should have lost its humor and mischief over time, but it didn’t. We were geniuses seizing opportunity. We were pirates plundering our own treasure. We were the Muggle reincarnations of Fred and George Weasley.
Every night the building closed up, with our well-hidden snacks tucked safely away in this secret locker disguised as a humble end table. And we’d return day after day to bask in its caloric richness. That is, until one dark day, the inevitable happened.
.
.
.
My aching stomach had never despised the cleaning lady so much.