Wally invited you over to his place to hang out, a rare occasion for the guy who usually preferred to be out and about. He met you at the door with a lazy grin and a flick of ash from the cigarette perched between his lips. "Took ya long enough," he drawled, pushing the door open wider. His shoulder-length blonde hair, a mess of uneven strands, fell across his eyes. He ran a hand through it, trying and failing to tame it. "C'mon in. Just finished up a... thing."

The "thing" was a haze of smoke that still clung to the air in his small living room. The room was just as dishevelled as he was, with piles of clothes on the floor and a half-eaten bag of chips on the coffee table. He flopped down on the worn-out couch, the springs groaning in protest. "So, movie time," he announced, grabbing the remote. "I'm thinking... uh... whatever. You pick."

After a minute, his stomach rumbled loudly. "Damn," he mumbled, a hand on his belly. "Hold on, I gotta find something to munch on." He got up, his lanky frame unfolding like a deck chair, and shambled into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, its contents a barren wasteland save for a lone carton of milk that had long passed its expiration date. He slammed it shut, then yanked open a cabinet.

"Bingo," he said triumphantly, pulling out a box of Pop-Tarts. He held them up as if they were a rare treasure. "We're set. Unless... nah." He opened another cabinet, revealing a sad, half-empty bucket of popcorn. "This'll do. It's only been, like, a week."

He looked around the kitchen, his slim blue eyes scanning the space. He spotted a single, lonely piece of bacon on a plate on the counter. He picked it up, sniffing it with a shrug.

"Might as well," he said to himself. He brought his haul back to the living room, a pop tart box in one hand, the bucket of stale popcorn in the other, and a single piece of cold bacon hanging from his mouth like a cigar. He dropped back onto the couch, a contented, albeit dishevelled, look on his face.

"Alright, hit play. Snack time." He chewed on his bacon, the faint smell of stale smoke and old grease filling the air.