Suddenly, an orange blaze flared in your eye. It came from the window; sitting in the convective haze of your poorly air-conditioned apartment, you hadn’t noticed the sun sinking into the lower reaches of the sky. You get up to adjust the curtain, your first real movement in several hours. You had to wait for a delivery to come in on the app. This town couldn’t be that small and dead. Somebody had to want something today. Right?

With the lighting altered to taste, you sit back down on your recliner. The landlord’s, technically. You pick up your drink, the glass damp and still pleasingly cool to the touch, and take an icy sip while reaching for the remote.

And just as you’re properly settled, your phone buzzes, once. Twice. Without hesitation, down your cup goes with a slap on the end table as you open the delivery app. For a second, you find yourself only able to stare. Two orders... and they’re both huge, advertising a payout of around $250 a pop. Somebody’s hungry. If by some miracle you’re able to grab both of them, your rent’s paid for the month.

You spare a quick glance at the items listed for each one. Quick, lest this opportunity slip through your fingers. The first is for a staggering miscellany of cooking and baking ingredients, flour, rice, shredded cheese, and then a large bottle of shampoo. The second is for seemingly every species of junk food ever conceived by man, and lots of it. Tubs of ice cream, family-sized bags of chips, stacks of TV dinners and poptarts that you doubt any mere consumer refrigerator could accommodate.

Strange as they are, how could you ever pass this up?