The Man Who Turned Tupperware into a Culinary Adventure

By Sir Thomas Goodwin

This story was originally posted on Substack.com

In the small town of Epicurean Hollow, where the sun always shined just enough to make the lemons juicy and the neighbors cheerful (or so they claimed), there lived a man named Larry.

Larry was not your average guy. No, he was a proud member of the elite society of leftovers. Yes, you heard that right. Larry was a leftover enthusiast – an aficionado of takeout boxes, half-eaten burritos, and the mysterious Tupperware containers lurking at the back of his fridge.

Now, Larry wasn’t born into this proud legacy of leftovers; it was more of a gradual descent into culinary chaos. It all began innocently enough. One evening, after a long day of work, Larry decided to treat himself to a lavish feast from his favorite Thai restaurant. He ordered enough food to feed a small army – pad thai, spring rolls, green curry, and a dessert that could only be described as a coconut bomb of deliciousness. After devouring a portion the size of a small child, Larry was left with enough food to feed the entire cast of a local musical.

And thus began Larry's relationship with leftovers. Over the course of several weeks, he became an expert in the fine art of food preservation. He learned that the key to keeping leftovers fresh was to slap a piece of tape over the Tupperware lid and hope for the best. “Out of sight, out of mind,” he would say, shoving the containers further into the fridge, like a game of culinary hide-and-seek.

Larry's friends, however, were not as supportive of his newfound passion. “Larry, you can’t keep eating leftover curry from three weeks ago,” his friend Jenna declared one evening as they sat in his kitchen, the aroma of something vaguely reminiscent of rotten cabbage wafting through the air. “You’re going to end up growing a new appendage.”

“Jenna,” Larry replied, waving his hand dismissively, “you don’t understand. This is gourmet dining! I call it ‘Culinary Archaeology.’ The deeper I dig, the more treasures I find!”

One fateful Friday, Larry’s culinary adventures took a wild turn. After a particularly robust week of food hoarding, he opened the fridge and was greeted by a sight that would haunt him for life. Tupperware containers were stacked precariously, each one more mysterious than the last. There was a half-eaten lasagna that could have survived a nuclear apocalypse, a bowl of mashed potatoes that had formed a crust so thick it could be mistaken for a doorstop, and a questionable green substance in a jar that Larry could only hope was guacamole.

“What’s that?!” Jenna squealed, pointing at the jar of green goo. “Did you grow that in there?”

“Pfft, please,” Larry said, puffing out his chest. “That’s obviously an organic science experiment. I’ll name it ‘Guaczilla.’

Determined to make the most of his culinary conquest, Larry decided to host a “Leftover Potluck” at his apartment. He sent out invitations, promising a night of food that would tantalize the taste buds and potentially endanger their lives. “Bring your own Tupperware! Who knows what treasures you’ll discover!” he wrote, imagining a night of laughter, good company, and perhaps a few culinary miracles.

The night of the potluck arrived, and guests filled Larry’s apartment. They brought their own leftovers, which ranged from a suspiciously fermented kimchi to a limp salad that had apparently lost the will to live. Larry’s friends were skeptical but excited; after all, they were about to witness the culinary chaos that was “Larry’s Leftover Potluck.”

As the guests gathered around the dining table, they each unveiled their contributions. Jenna proudly displayed a lasagna that resembled a modern art sculpture, while George presented a bowl of chili that appeared to have developed its own ecosystem. “It’s alive!” someone shouted, peering into the bowl.

“Great, now we can’t eat it,” Jenna sighed, crossing her arms. Larry, however, was undeterred. “Tonight, we feast!” he announced, brandishing a spoon like a sword. “Let the culinary adventure begin!”

As they dug into their mismatched buffet, laughter filled the room. They swapped stories about their leftovers, each tale more outrageous than the last. “I once found pizza in my fridge that was older than my dog!” someone yelled, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

But then, as the night wore on and the culinary concoctions began to mingle, a strange phenomenon occurred. It was as if the leftovers had united against their common enemy – Larry. Suddenly, the green goo from the jar began to bubble, and with a loud*pop*, it erupted in a gooey explosion that covered Larry from head to toe.

“Ah! Guaczilla strikes again!” he yelled, flailing his arms as his friends howled with laughter.

“Looks like you’re the one who’s about to be leftovers!” Jenna cackled, grabbing her phone to capture the moment for posterity.

The night continued in a whirlwind of chaos, with Larry dodging flying bits of food and attempting to maintain some semblance of dignity. He was the king of leftovers, after all, and a king must never show weakness – especially not when guacamole was involved.

As the hours ticked by and the laughter echoed through the apartment, Larry had an epiphany. Maybe leftovers weren’t just about the food. They were about the memories, the laughter, and the shared experience. Sure, he could have thrown everything away and ordered a pizza, but where’s the fun in that?

In a moment of clarity, Larry stood atop a chair, raised his spoon, and declared, “Let’s embrace the chaos of leftovers! For every Tupperware container, there’s a story waiting to be told!”

With that, a cheer erupted from the crowd, and they toasted their half-eaten Poke Bowls and questionable chicken nuggets, celebrating the glorious messiness of life.

As the night wound down and the laughter faded, Larry couldn’t help but smile. Yes, he was Leftovers Larry, but he was also Larry the Legend, the hero of a culinary adventure that would go down in Epicurean Hollow history.

And so, as he surveyed the remnants of the epic potluck, he realized that perhaps the best leftovers were the memories made along the way. So what if he had a bit of guacamole in his hair? It was a badge of honor, a testament to the wild ride that was his life.

That night Larry learned that leftovers were not just about the food that lingered in his fridge; they were about the connections, the laughter, and the unexpected joy found in the simplest moments. And while he might have been a little worse for wear, he wouldn’t trade his culinary chaos for anything in the world.

And as for Guaczilla? Well, it became a legend of its own, inspiring future generations of leftover enthusiasts to embrace their unique culinary journeys, one bizarre dish at a time.

Do you know❓

• Mash the Subscribe button now before you forget.

• Your subscription makes writing more joyful for me and entertaining for all, plus it’s Free!

• Any thoughts? Comments are open.

See you again ↩️😃