1000 Words of Ramen

Alright, so one of my NaNoWriMo dares was to include ramen noodles. Bonus points would be if it took up at least 1000 words, if somebody had an allergic reaction to it, and if it wasn't being used for food. So far I've typed up 1184 words on the subject and voiced the fact that it was not going to be used for food, though Lampur hasn't yet had his allergic reaction to the noodles. But that will come, I promise!

Here is what I have so far on the fearsome ramen noodles:

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When she grew close enough for me to see her clearly, I could see that the small container was a cup containing…
Wet noodles.
I blinked, not sure whether or not to believe what I saw.
When I looked again, sure enough, she still held a cup of small, soggy noodles.
“Jamie, why are you carrying wet noodles, wan?” I asked, raising one eyebrow (or whatever Irish wolfhounds had above their eyes).
She grinned. “These aren’t just any noodles. These are ramen.”
I gave her the same look. “Why does that matter, wan? They’re still noodles, and I fail to see how noodles will save Sen Rali from a trio of drunk teenagers, wan.”
She laughed, though she luckily laughed quietly enough to not draw any attention to the three of us. “Well yeah. But take a look – these ramen are no ordinary ramen!”
She held out the plastic Styrofoam cup toward us, and Marlau and I bent closer to take a good look at the ramen. It looked like what normal ramen probably looked like, as I really hadn’t seen ramen noodles before, just probably a bit soggier. Taking a look at the container, I assumed that ramen were supposed to be submerged in steamy broth, so I figured that one of the reasons this particular cup of ramen was unusual was that it had no visible broth, and that the noodles were simply soggy. However, this did not seem so far out of the realm of ordinary ramen to contribute to Jamie’s treatment of said cup of ramen noodles.
I took another good look. The ramen were soggy, yes, so they sort of stuck together and glistened in the light from the parking lot. I noticed that there were a few things that weren’t noodles in there, such as bloated little peas and carrots, as well as things that looked like tiny shriveled dehydrated shrimp that had suddenly been submerged in liquid, then promptly taken out. Or something. Either way, they failed to look appetizing, nutritious (unlike “real” shrimp from the Earth plane, which actually sounded quite tasty), or all that filling. However, these little additions to the mass of wet ramen noodles probably appeared in normal cups of ramen, so I doubted that they had any sort of importance in the matter.
Could the cup itself be important, I wondered, bending down to take a look. It was white with orange and red lettering and a triangle design, but I didn’t think this had any sort of effect on the ramen as a whole, either.
What could it have been?
I paused.
Then I realized that the alcohol smell grew stronger when I bent closer to the ramen. I had simply shrugged off the sharp, pungent smell since I first realized that berating Jamie for drinking would get me nowhere (since she was handling her drunken state quite admirably, probably due to years of learning how to cover it up, so I figured I should try to ignore it for the time being and focus on more pressing matters), but now I realized that I should have paid attention to my sense of smell before my sense of sight.
The thing that was unusual about the cup of ramen noodles was that it smelled very strongly of the alcohol that Jamie had been drinking.
The liquid that caused the noodles, peas, carrots, little shriveled shrimp, and any other nasty thing inside to become soggy was not any sort of normal broth, but the very same alcohol that Jamie (and probably Mister Dupuis) had been drinking.
Well…that was certainly…strange.
“Alcohol, Jamie, wan?” I asked, disappointed and confused. “Should I even ask for more information on the alcohol-filled ramen noodles, wan?”
Jamie grinned. “Yup.” I gave her a disapproving look, and she shrugged. “I was kinda hurting for a high of some sort, and I was also kinda hungry, and it seemed like a good idea at the time…”
“Ramen noodles that were soggy with alcohol, wan?” I repeated, shaking my head. Jamie really needed to have a good idea of how to use such a strange, despicable item to our advantage to grow even a little bit in my eyes.
“Yeah…but I also have this!”
Then she held up a rectangular black metal object that I didn’t recognize. I stole a glance at Marlau who, like me, had been eyeing the ramen noodles with a large amount of distaste. I realized that the yinto might not have had as good senses of smell as the peau, on account of their smaller noses, but that their noses must have still been pretty sharp. And that horrible alcohol stench wafting from the ramen cup wasn’t exactly subtle…
It sort of made my nose hurt, in fact. Stupid Jamie with her stupid ramen and her stupid alcohol…my nose really hurt, too!
I turned my gaze back to the object in Jamie’s hand. “What is it, wan?” I asked, not expecting a good answer.
She laughed, flicking a switch on the object. A tiny flame erupted on the edge of the object, casting a flickering orange glow on Jamie’s grinning face. “It’s a lighter!”
“You use that to smoke, don’t you, wan?” I asked, glaring at her.
“That’s not important.”
Groaning, I decided to just go along with it. “What does the lighter have to do with the…wan. Oh…wan."
“Do you get it?” Jamie asked, almost unable to contain her excitement.
Marlau pouted. “I have no idea,” she muttered, looking away. Apparently, House Jiral didn’t have to have her learn about lighters and alcohol-filled ramen noodles.
It amazed me, in fact, that the thought of how the lighter and the alcohol in the ramen related to each other, but I still managed to come across the idea. “Alcohol is flammable, right, wan?”
“Hell yeah!”
“So…we’re going to light the ramen on fire, wan?”
“Hella!”
“I assume ‘hella’ means ‘yes’ in this situation, then, wan?”
“Well, yeah!”
I looked at the cup of ramen noodles. So this was to be our main weapon against the drunken teenagers on the other side of the pickup truck?
Well, considering from what I was hearing from them, it sounded like they were currently ignoring Sen Rali, and dancing around and singing.
Using a flaming alcoholic noodle dish against such a trio suddenly seemed to make sense…possibly even poetic.
Ramen noodles…
Well, you had to give Jamie some credit for creativity, even if it was probably brought on by the thing we were going to light on fire to save our friend.
“Well, let’s go do it, wan.” Looking over at the dim football game in the distance, I sighed. “Let’s just make sure not to get caught, wan. The fire might draw attention, wan…”
Jamie scoffed at my nervousness. “Don't worry about it. If it was that easy to get caught doing something drunk and weird, don’t you think there would be more teens getting arrested?”
I didn’t feel like bringing up the fact that most of the time, such teenage humans weren’t dealing with flaming ramen noodles.