Expiration Date: The Reckoning

It starts innocently enough. You’re just looking for cheese. The light hums. The air feels… off. Somewhere behind the milk and moral regret, a faint scent of salsa past its prime whispers, “You did this.” Welcome to Expiration Date: The Reckoning.

The nachos are simple — a brave attempt to use what remains. You scrape together the last of the shredded cheese, find a handful of tortilla chips that have seen better days, and convince yourself the sour cream “smells fine.” But deep down, you know. You’ve crossed into the grey zone — where freshness expires and hubris begins.

You bake them anyway. Of course you do. The chips darken, the cheese bubbles, and suddenly it looks… good. Against all logic, these nachos rise from the culinary grave, daring you to take a bite. And when you do, it’s glorious. Terrifyingly glorious. The fridge may hold other casualties, but tonight, you’ve cheated fate.

Still, as the last chip crunches, you hear it — a faint drip from somewhere behind the ketchup. A quiet reminder that even in victory… the fridge always wins.