Larry was annoyed. He had been waiting to eat his chocolate pudding since 9:00 AM when he came into work. For the past three hours, he had been sorting through his daily paperwork, taking calls from clients who seemed to be way more chatty than usual, and patiently waiting for his chocolate pudding.
Larry had no doubts that he would be able to eat it later. No one in his office had a passion for stealing other people’s food, and even if they did, his pudding was perfectly protected by the “Do not eat! Larry’s” post-it note on the top of it. Still, by the time Larry finished his morning work and got up to take his pudding from the fridge, it was long gone.
The post-it note, however, was not. It was stuck to the door of the fridge and was untouched except for the little words scribbled in the bottom right corner: “Sorry! It was worth it!”.
Disappointed with the loss, Larry returned to his desk, trying to focus on the papers and ignore the rising grumble in his empty stomach. He figured that there was no reason to be annoyed. Perhaps, one of his co-workers forgot to bring their lunch and had no choice but to eat Larry’s pudding. As long as it was a one-time occurrence, he did not mind.
The next day, Larry was fuming. Having left his chocolate pudding in the fridge at 9:00 AM, he expected it to be there at noon. After all, yesterday’s event was unprecedented; there was no reason to believe that it would happen again. He left the pudding on the same shelf, protected it with the same warning note, and left to do his morning work. The post-it note was tainted with “Still worth it!” and a smiley face added at the end. Larry crumpled the piece of paper and threw it away.
He glanced around the kitchenette intently, wishing to find some clues that would give away the pudding thief. Needless to say, the kitchenette was spotless. The sink was empty, all of the cabinets were closed, and even the surfaces were cleaned so thoroughly that the stubborn coffee stains from weeks back were gone entirely. Someone did a good job getting rid of the evidence. Shaking his head, Larry returned to his desk and sat down with an exasperated sigh.
Ten other people were working in his unit, except for the cleaning and maintenance staff, but they only came in early in the morning and late in the evening. He could probably rule Linda out since she was lactose intolerant. The handwriting on the two post-it notes was too clumsy and messy for a woman, so he had to rule out Margo and Katie, too. The other seven men, however, all made it to the shortlist.
Larry spent the rest of his workday paying little attention to work. Instead, he watched the movement of his colleagues around the office, listened in on their conversations carefully, and waited for the criminal to give himself away. Everyone was acting as if nothing had happened, and it was partly true – to them, not to Larry. His grumbling stomach and the thought that he has not eaten his daily treat in two days drove him insane.
Finally, Larry was able to identify his primary suspect. Harry Miles, 25, has recently joined the office as a young and promising specialist. Harry and Larry never hung out outside of work, but Larry heard a lot about his practical joke wars with other colleagues. Moreover, Harry drank hot chocolate instead of coffee each day, making his love for chocolate and sweet treats way too obvious.
To Larry’s surprise, Harry denied all accusations profoundly.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he declared, not even tearing his eyes off the computer screen.
Not wanting to make a fool of himself by arguing, Larry whispered, ‘Fine, then.’
Later that night, he added Tabasco Scorpion Pepper sauce to his regular shopping list. He took the lid covering his pudding off, poured a liberal amount of sauce in, mixed it in carefully, and pressed the lid back, hoping that it would stick nicely. The next morning, he left Harry’s surprise treat in its usual place, but the usual post-it note on top of it, and waited.
At 11:05 AM, Larry heard coughing from the kitchenette, followed by a loud crash that resonated through the office. The workers exchanged confused glances, then rushed into the kitchenette to find out what happened. Harry was standing in the middle of the room on all fours, coughing and wheezing violently. The bottom half of his face was all red, lips swollen, eyes tearing up. Larry suddenly remembered Harry saying something about his severe spice allergy – a memory that had evaded Larry entirely the day before.
‘Someone call 911,’ he yelled, rushing to the first aid kit.
The rest of the day was a blur. By the time the ambulance arrived, Harry could barely breathe. The paramedics took him to the hospital without making any comments about his condition. Larry followed the ambulance in a cab and spent one and a half hours in the waiting area before hearing that Harry did not make it.
‘Not worth it,’ was the first thing that came to his mind.