Insatiable

“’Ay,” Mae Ellen heard after taking her first bite of Cocoa puffs. “’Ay lil’ girl.”
At first, Mae wasn’t sure she was hearing anything at all. Sometimes her brain would play tricks on her, at least that’s what Daddy always said. Like the time she thought she’d seen Nana sitting at the foot of her bed after Nana had “passed away”. Mae hadn’t understood “passed away,” but when Daddy said “she’s gone and she’s never coming back” Mae understood that, but was confused by it. Why would Nana want to go away and never come back? Didn’t Nana like her?
She’d cried and cried and cried after that. But after Daddy and Stacy tucked her in that night, Nana appeared at the foot of the bed, and she was glowing and smiling.
And she’d talked to Nana. And Nana told her that she hadn’t wanted to go away, but she had to because she died. But Nana had also said that it wasn’t for forever, only for a while, and they’d see each other again.
Then Nana had disappeared, and Daddy was at the door asking who she was talking to. When she told him, he sighed, sat at the foot of her bed, and explained “imagination” to her. He told her that sometimes you can see and hear things that aren’t really there because you have “imagination” and sometimes “imaginations run away with themselves”. He’d asked her if she understood, and she told him she did even though she didn’t. Then he tucked her in tight and gave her a big smack on the lips.
Now, seated at the table with a half chewed mouthful of cocoa puffs bulging in her cheeks, the five year old girl froze and listened intently, waiting for the voice to come again.
“Psst,” the voice came again, deep and smooth. “Lil’ girl. Ova He’e”
Cocoa puffs fell from her mouth, landing in the bowl with a splat. Her eyes grew wide and her pulse pounded in her ears. She knew it was only her imagination, but she was still very much afraid.
Blue eyes scanned the room. Everything appeared normal to her. There were dishes drying next to the sink, the blender stood next to the microwave and Daddy’s Lunchbox—
“’Ay,” the lunchbox said, its lid flapping up and down as it spoke. “Gimme summa dem cocoa puffs.”
Her first instinct was to scream, but she held it back. Daddy and Stacy were sleeping, and they would get mad she woke them up, especially if it was only her imagination that scared her. And she was sure it was her imagination; lunchboxes don’t talk.
Defying even a five year old’s logic, the lunchbox spoke again. “Is you deaf? I said gimme some Cocoa Puffs.”
Not knowing what else to do, Mae shook her head.
“Oh come on now! Don’ be like dat! I’m hungry.”
“Your just my ‘magination,” she said, her voice soft and quivering.
The Lunchbox sighed. “Ain’t dat a bitch. Goddamn. I finally get a minute alone wit’cha and you ‘on’t even belee me. Damn.” Then, to her astonishment, the lunchbox began to cry.
Mae came down from her seat and approached the lunchbox, taking small, cautious steps.
“What’s the matter? Why are you sad?” She said, standing in front of it.
The lunchbox sniffled. “I’s is just so doggone hungry lil girl! I ain’t had nuthin ta eat in yea’s! Nobody eva feeds me. ‘Dey jus’ take ‘n’ take ‘n’ take and don’ neva ask me if I wants anything.” It’s tone changed, became angry. “I’m tired a dis shit! I used to be union! I used to ha’e benefits ‘n’ a reti’ment plan ‘n’ shit! Goddamn!”
Mae giggled. “You talk funny.”
“Ain’t cho mama eva teach you no mannas? You can’t be jus’ insultin’ folks all da time!”
Mae giggled again. “Sorry.”
“Das a’ight child. Now.” As strange as it sounded, she could actually feel the lunchbox leveling its stare on her. “Gimme summa dem cocoa puffs.”
“No. They’re my cocoa puffs.”
“You is a selfish ass lil’ bitch you know dat! I ain’t had shit ta eat in fi’teen goddamn years and you ain’t even gon’ share yo’ cocoa puffs wit me? Git da fuck outta he’e wit’cho selfish ass!”
“You’re not very nice. I’m gonna tell my Daddy on you.”
“Go ahead then! Go run to yo’ daddy…punk!”
Mae started for the steps, intent on going to her father’s bedroom and telling him all about the foul-mouthed lunchbox in the kitchen. She went up the stairs and was just about to walk into Daddy and Stacy’s bedroom when she remembered what Daddy had told her about imagination, and how angry he would be if she woke him up early on a Saturday.
Sighing, she headed back for the kitchen.
“Look who’s comin’ back to da partay!” The lunchbox bellowed when she crossed the threshold. “You ready to give up dem cocoa puffs yet?”
“No,” Mae said, turning on the television and switching it to the cartoon channel.
“A’ight den,” the lunchbox chuckled, “We in fo’ a long mo’nin I s’pose!”
Mae turned up the volume on the television, trying to drown out the lunchbox.
“Cocoa puffs!” It screamed.
Mae turned away from it.
“I wants,” it whispered first, then screamed. “COCOA PUFFS!”
Mae got up from her chair, marched over to the lunchbox and picked it up.
“Git cho goddamn hands off me!”
She took it over to the refrigerator.
“Don’ even think ‘bout it!”
Opened the door.
“Can we talk about this please?” The lunchbox begged.
Mae shook her head, then placed the lunchbox on the top shelf, next to the milk.
“Dis is a violation of my civil rights,” the lunchbox protested. “an’ you best take me outta he’e ‘fore I calls my lawya!”
And shut the door.
For the next half hour, the lunchbox ranted and raved, its voice barely muffled by the Frigidaire. Mae did all she could to focus on the cartoons, but finally, she could take no more.
She swung the door to the refrigerator open and shouted. “Be quiet!”
“Gimme some Cocoa Puffs!” The lunchbox shouted back.
“Will you be quiet?”
She could feel the lunchbox thinking. After a few seconds, it spoke. “Yes.”
She removed it from the shelf, and placed it back on the counter. After retrieving the Cocoa Puffs from the bottom cabinet, she opened the lid and poured some in, closing the lid after.
There was a gobbling, chortling, crunching sound and then the lunchbox belched. “Mo’ please!” The lid flopped open by itself.
Mae poured more in, and closed the lid after.
“Mo’”
“There is no more!”
“Well den get me sumthin else Goddammit! How ‘bout a ham sammich?”
“No. You said Cocoa Puffs. Now be quiet.”
The lunchbox said nothing, and after several minutes Mae returned to cartoons.
Ten minutes passed.
“Ay,” the lunchbox whispered. “Ay lil’ girl. Get me on a yo’ Daddy’s cigarettes.”