Typical Saturday Night.

An aromatic waft of cheap beer and loneliness fumed from the toilet as Harold took what must have been the longest piss of his life. His urine, a staunch nuclear yellow, highlighted the workload his liver was currently processing. When you're a single man with poor social skills, you wind up like Harold.

This is his story.

Tucking his miserable sausage back in his underwear, Harold then ignored the sink and decided the germs were better left on his hands. Returning to an all night marathon of b-grade horror movies and nachos, he had little else to do with his Saturday night except sit in his skivvies and vegetate. It's not like Harold had any friends to hang out with, nor a woman to spend his money on. Sure, there was Ziggy at the Gas N' Sip, but who hangs out with their porno magazine supplier? Hell, the last date Harold went on was in 2009, though by complete accident of course. A girl mistook Harold for her blind date at the mall food court... and he just went along with it.

Harold shoved a block of cheese in his microwave in preparation for another batch of nachos. He could smell the warm, savory goodness of the processed yellow food product seeping out of the ancient appliance. Perhaps if he cleaned the microwave every once in a while, it wouldn't look like a relic from a serial killer's estate sale. Inside the unit were layers upon layers of burnt food caked from years of abuse. The interior of the microwave was an unsettling mixture of brown and black detritus, with the occasional sprinkling of green gunk for good measure. Harold didn't care, though. As long as it melted his cheese and warmed up his toaster strudel, Harold was a happy camper.

Turning his head for a moment to watch the black and white monster movie on his television, Harold caught glimpse of a hapless teenage girl being consumed by some grotesque insect creature. Sure, the flimsy rubber monster suit looked terrible, but at least the producers were trying to do something. Harold though? He was a loser. No job. No life. No hope. If not for his Aunt Pearl, he'd have no place to stay. In exchange for Pearl's basement, Harold had to cut the lawn and maintain the property. Harold sucked at it, but his aunt was a nice woman whom overlooked his numerous faults.

DING!

Harold removed the steaming bowl of golden cheese from the dank microwave, spilling some on his hand. Yelping in agony, he dropped the bowl and rushed to the bathroom sink. Once there, he washed it off. It was a good thing the cheese got on his hands, honestly. That was the first time Harold had washed his hands in days. Looking in the mirror above the sink, Harold took note of the pathetic man-child staring back at him -- grizzled, tired and pale. There were bags under his eyes. His hair, uncombed and strewn with grease, jutted every which way.

"You look like shit, Harold."

He mumbled callously to himself. Turning to leave the bathroom, Harold was alarmed to find his foot sticking to the floor. Rubbing the crust from his weary eyes, it all become shockingly clear.

The nacho cheese, having grown many times in size and shape, was pulsating in the doorway of his bathroom. It... WAS ALIVE! A deafening moan escape from the quivering glob of yellow ooze, with obvious intentions of making Harold its next meal. Part of the cheese slime lurched forth and grabbed Harold by his underwear, easily ripping them off. Harold, being the pronounced coward that he was, promptly started to urinate on himself.

The trickle of urine streamed down Harold's leg and began to drip on the outstretched mass of cheese, still clutching his tattered tighty-whities. As the amber liquid splashed on the monstrous tasty sludge, it shrieked in horror. The more Harold pissed himself, the more urine that showered the cheese creature! Harold suddenly had a brief, and altogether surprising, moment of bravery.

Standing proudly before his toilet, Harold pissed all over the cheese.

Aiming squarely at the center of the frightening mass, the sad-sack zero let loose more beer-tainted kidney juice. Drenching the cheese beast in his own discharge, it shriveled and squirmed until nothing was left.

There, standing naked in his bathroom, Harold peered blankly into the puddle of urine on the floor. The only thought in his head was... I wish I had more cheese. Sprinting back to his kitchen, Harold promptly found a hammer and bashed his microwave to bits. Slamming and banging with delight, he couldn't help but giggle with sheer abandon. The charred appliance splintered in a million tiny pieces, creating quite the mess.

At the top of the stairwell leading into the basement, Pearl creaked the rickety door open and inquired as to all the noise.

"Are you all right down there, Harold? Got a lady friend I take it?"

On the television, the insect monster promptly devoured another teenage co-ed. Harold smirked and then shouted.

"Something like that, Aunt Pearl. Just your typical Saturday night."