Strange Cravings Prompt

Loud chatter fills the streets around Arizona as she fights through the crowd. Friday night celebrations were in full swing; buns of all types found themselves drawn to the cluster of food-trucks in the square. Each truck had a variety of eye catching graphics advertising their latest mish-mash culinary creation tailored to the cravings of any pregnant bun unlucky enough to be in need of a specific snack. Savory, sweet, salty, sour— the trucks have it all. Arizona tightens her grip on Victoria, their arms interlocked at the elbow, as she steers them towards a cluster of trucks at the back.

She pushes through a group of buns, crying out her apologies and pardons; standing before her at last are the three trucks that caught her attention. Saliva gathers in her mouth and she quickly swallows with a twinge of embarrassment. This time of year was a novelty for many. For every pregnant bun desperately craving a treat there were four more buns partaking in equal earnest, or recoiling in disgust at the creations. Victoria tended to be one to scrunch her nose at whatever has enraptured Arizona, though her bleeding heart always wins out; scouring pop-up stands and food trucks is an easy and fun date night for anytime during the season. It is their fun little tradition to document each year’s winning, and losing, samples.

“Toria, look!” Arizona squeezes her arm to pull Victoria after her towards her selections. The first truck boasted a plant-based meatball sub sandwich with thick-cut pickle chunks for a perfectly savory mouthful every time. Her gaze turns to the next dispensary, a pop-up stand, with glossy signs displaying their deep-fried peanut butter corndogs. The sausages, deliciously plant-based as the rest of the meat in Burrowgatory, had been placed on sticks and dipped in peanut butter and batter before being fried; each corndog had the option of various drizzles to add to the explosion of sweet-sour crunch. Finally, her eyes fall on the final truck and Arizona watches a bun eagerly take their order from the window: a bowl of yogurt with a variety of toppings similar to that of a dessert buffet, there are a variety of crushed candies, gummy treats, nuts, and more.

“I don’t even know which one I want to try first,” she whines. Victoria presses her lips together with a disinterested hum. Though none of the trucks interested her, she knows how Arizona will beg her to take a bite off whatever she orders. At least tonight’s selections don’t seem too disturbing to stomach.

“We can try them all, muffin, don’t worry.” Victoria places her hand over Arizona’s forearm still nestled in the crook of her elbow, rubbing comfortingly. “Why don’t we get the corndog first? The sandwiches can be our big meal and the yogurt for dessert.”

Arizona gives a curt nod as they drift to the back of the corndog-stand line.

“Like an appetizer.”

“Exactly,” Victoria pats Arizona’s arm again.

The wait is a bit longer than either of them would like, with the night being young and the crowd being thick with eager, empty bellies. Arizona fills the time with chatter about the imps she helped and clients she visited. Victoria listens intently, even offering her own commentary on some of the mischievous imps she recalls from Arizona’s older stories. Arizona preens happily with every connection Victoria makes.

Finally, they find themselves at the front of the line and place their order for a single corndog each. Arizona asks for a drizzle of mustard atop her corndog, though Victoria asks for hers to be plain. The bun behind the counter takes their payment with a smile before returning with both corndogs wrapped delicately. Victoria takes them both, checking to make sure Arizona’s did indeed come with the requested mustard, before they veer off to one of the square’s many tables.

Its surface is a bit sticky with the spillage of previous guests, though neither try to think much on it, keeping their elbows delicately balanced on the edges to avoid the heavier soiled areas. Their first bite is thick with peanut butter and the salty tang of sausage. Arizona moans around her bite, smacking her lips as she chews and laps at the gobs of sweet cream that immediately stick to the roof of her mouth. Victoria chews thoughtfully as she watches Arizona dive in for her second and third bite.

“Good, right?” Arizona wipes at the corner of her mouth with her fingertips to catch a stray crumb.

“For once, I think this is something I could eat year-round.” Both buns laugh through their next bite. Arizona is able to finish her corndog and the last few bites of Victoria’s; to keep room, she argued, she didn’t want to get full too early.

After their trash is discarded they join the queue for the meatball and pickle subs. Arizona finds herself bouncing from hoof to hoof with unbridled excitement. The stranger the combination, the more she wanted to try it for herself. When they reach the front and order, Victoria waves her hand away from placing her own order.

“I’ll just take a bite of yours, muffin.”

The cashier is swift. A steaming sandwich is handed through the window on a cardboard tray with a checkered paper beneath for a flourish of color. Arizona thanks the worker profusely for her food; just the sight of it is enough to make her mouth water in anticipation.

Victoria leads her back towards a new table, their previous one long since occupied, and sits to watch Arizona take a bite. Flavor explodes through her mouth, with the umami of the meat and the salty tang of pickle mixing on her tongue. Marinara dribbles over her fingers with the slightest squeeze— the sub is positively overflowing with sauce.

“Oh my gosh, this is so much better than I thought.” Her tongue darts out to lick pickle juice from her plump lips. Arizona holds out the sandwich for Victoria to take a bite, despite the tell-tale crinkle of her nose that she feels less than willing. She shakes the sandwich with an urgent noise and a special twinkle in her eye before Victoria finally relents with a hesitant bite.

“You didn’t even get a pickle! That defeats the point,” Arizona pouts.

Violet chews with a twisted expression. Finally, she swallows.

“Had the juice in it anyway.” She shakes out a full-body shiver from the strange mixture of flavor that stays in her mouth, coating it. “You lied to me, muffin. Not for me.”

Arizona happily takes another bite, looking like the cat who got the cream.

“More for me then!”

After Arizona has polished off the remainder of the sub, their eyes trail to the yogurt truck. By now the line has dwindled to the last trickle of buns who still need to satiate their sweet tooth. Victoria leads Arizona to the line with her arm firmly fixed around her shoulders, guiding.

The buns in front of them receive their orders quickly and without issue; soon Arizona and Victoria find themselves staring into the display case of toppings. Arizona pushes up on her hoof-tips to gaze at each row. On one side are the more typical toppings one may expect— various crushed candies, gummy worms and similar fun shapes, sprinkles, and the like— on the other end are stranger toppings for more refined palates.

By this point in the evening, both Arizona and Victoria have exhausted their culinary curiosities. Any more strange combination would be liable to upset what they have already eaten. Victoria opts for a simple parfait. Strawberry yogurt base with chocolate chips and honey drizzle. Arizona pushes up on tip toes to view her choices behind the display glass. In the end she asks for a mixed berry yogurt with marshmallows, chocolate shavings, and shredded coconut with a splash of strawberry drizzle.

The tables in the square have been largely emptied; they find a secluded spot and sit with their parfaits, chatting happily and swapping bites of each other’s creations. Victoria’s spoon scrapes the bottom of her bowl as she wins their unintentional race.

“Incredible— but not as good at your sweets, muffin.” Victoria gives her wife a sly expression. A flush settles over Arizona’s plump cheeks.

“Maybe I will make us something special over the weekend. A little bit of whipped cream topping.” Her voice drags with a sultry tone, promising more beyond a meager baked good. Arizona walks her hand across the tabletop before she leans in to offer a yogurt-flavored kiss.

The lights above the square twinkle over their heads as they bask in their circle of privacy. It’s like they are the only two buns in Burrowgatory; warmth flooding through their chests as they grow ever closer.

“How about we head home then? Sounds like we need to get some baking started.” Victoria takes their empty bowls to dispose of them in one of the overflowing trash cans. Arizona is all too eager to join her, linking their arms together again, fighting the urge to skip her way out of the square. They step in time with each other towards home, with the promise of something special to end their date heavy in their minds.

word count: 1542