We all know.

We've all been there.

It's that day where your peers decide today was the perfect day to be good pupils.

The whole class is quiet,

Hands tediously scribbling away at their lined papers,

Noses so deep inside their textbooks that even you can smell it several desks away.

 

But you can smell everything because you haven't eaten anything.

Your nose is hypersensitive,

And your ears can tune in to the smallest sounds of wrapped goods crinkling,

Like a siren calling you as you're floating lost at sea.

And just like that,

Like Pavlov's dog,

It begins.

 

The war cry,

A sound that is only perceivable to you at this moment.

Your stomach starts gnawing away at itself, 

Fighting its walls and trying not to drown in the empty moat that you subjected it to,

A faint call to arms that you are so desperately trying to suppress.

 

But you can feel it pushing back,

Screaming tyranny,

Betrayed.

It demands anything,

Everything,

Something.

Something.

 

Its cries grow louder and your heart responds,

Racing,

Palpitating.

Your palms follow suit,

Growing cold and wet,

And you can feel a small bead of nervous sweat dripping down your forehead,

Because you know.

 

You beg,

Plead,

Pray to the being that is your empty stomach to just wait,

Promising to kneel before its feet,

Showering it with offerings fit for gods,

If only it would just wait.

 

But an empty stomach waits on no man.

It knows what it wants,

When it wants it,

And if you can't supply it then and there,

Well...

 

Like a volcano that has been dormant for several years,

It erupts.

Spewing its ashes into the atmosphere for all to see,

Demanding attention.

It's loud,

Angry,

Letting the whole world know of its dangerous presence.

 

And just like that,

All eyes are on you.

Your hypersensitive ears tune in to the deafening sounds of whispering snickers.

You face is hotter and redder than the lava that oozes,

And you can feel your stomach laughing as it slinks back into its dormant state,

Watching,

Waiting, 

Appeased but not satisfied.

An empty stomach waits on no man.