It wasn’t a hunger where he wanted anything substantial either, no, he wanted something a little bit more unconventional to satisfy his hunger. He wanted chips.

Vince, the other man who was starting to annoy Doom with his incessant healthy eating, who had nothing but healthy foods (and alcohol, which made it seem like Vince was a hypocrite but nonetheless) Doom decided he was going to go and get the chips he craved to curb his hunger and appetite. It was almost a fuck you to the other man and it brought Doom such delight and glee to eat all the chips that he wanted while he was around.

His headache was pounding as he got to the car and drove to the store, singing along to the heavy metal music that blasted through the car stereo. Once he finally reached his destination, he was faced with the burden of shopping. Around other people.

That was enough to annoy Doom. The people of Boston, with their snot nosed children, touching everything in sight. People who were moving slower than molasses like there was not a care in the world. Others who were racing around the store, trying their hardest to make sure that they were not beat to the register. It was all very exhausting and not something that Doom really wanted to deal with. He wanted chips, though, so he figured he could suffer through it, pretend to be a normal human being for just a few moments longer.

The selection was huge; everything that was an option seemed like a good one and he wondered why he hadn’t put more thought into this before he left the house. His eye wondered between all the flavors and the brands. Did he want salt and vinegar? Or perhaps sour cream and onion? Barbeque? God, this was going to be incredibly difficult. As he stood around, people flooded around him, making selections left and right and he knew that he needed to get out of the store.

So he settled for original potato chips, a rather plain choice, but he figured that was exactly what he was craving. He took the big bag to the front, where tons of people coughed in line, rubbing their noses, spreading their germs throughout the entire store like the plague. Doom doesn’t like this at all, he thought, as he waited to pay for one item.

Finally, it was his turn and he took his chips to the belt, setting them done, not speaking as the overly cheery clerk rang him up. He paid with cash from Vince’s wallet and walked out the door with nary a smile. Now that he had his chips, though, he could smile, and he discarded the plastic bag the chips were placed in, in the garbage and opened the bag to finally get his hands on his craving.

Just then, out of nowhere, men who were screaming his name, his name, Doom, rushed up and stole the chips, running toward a nearby alley. They were dressed in black and purple. Now? Now he was just pissed. And how in the hell did they know who he was?

He followed in hot pursuit, waiting until he got to the alley where just the hooded men were. “DOOM WANTS HIS CHIPS. GIVE DOOM HIS CHIPS NOW.”

The men didn’t say anything and Doom was so angry, so filled with rage that he concentrated for a moment. In that moment he tried his magic, not knowing if it would even work in this world or not. Before he knew it, he was aiming mystical blasts toward each men, being very careful to not aim at the actual chips as he did so. Much to his surprise, it worked. The blasts sent the two men to the ground and the chips flied in the air.

It was almost like watching them in slow motion and Doom, too, felt like he was in slow motion as he caught the chips midair. As they landed in his hands he smiled before turning his attention to the two men on the ground.

“NO ONE MESSES WITH DOOMS CHIPS. NO ONE.”

It was concise and to the point and, with that, he exited the alley and made his way back to the car.

Today was a good day. Doom had chips and he had his magic.