Three in the morning. The best time for toast.

Will arose from his bed, hungry and thoroughly awake. Ever since he'd started his late-night researching stints on that kooky old doctor who'd lived in his apartment before him, sleeping through the night had become difficult, if not impossible. After giving up on the doctor and his mysterious experiments, Will had decided to embrace his new sleep pattern and use it to get some extra work done.

First, however, he needed a snack.

Will ambled over to the kitchen, mulling over what kind of toast he wanted. Did he want savory or sweet? Elaborate or simple? Healthy or tasty? Definitely tasty. Desperate for inspiration, Will descended upon his shelves.

In the cupboard he had peanut butter and nutella. Too spready.

In the pantry he had honey and marmalade. Too sticky.

In the spice cabinet he had cinnamon and garlic. Too strong.

In the freezer he had ice cream--wait ice cream doesn't go on toast.

In the fridge he had eggs and cheese. Too much work.

In the fridge door he had jelly and...what was that?

Will crouched down so he was eye-level with his shelf. The eerie light from the fridge illuminated his features as he reached down and removed an unmarked jar from between the ketchup (too red) and the dill pickles (too juicy). Will turned the jar around in the pale fridge-light. No labels, and the jar was an opaque cream color, no clue what was inside.

Rising, Will shut the fridge, jar in hand. "Well, there's only one way to find out."

Sliding the jar across the counter, Will returned to the pantry, nimbly retrieving one slice of honey wheat bread. He mused as he waited, poised above the glowing toaster, about how the jar could have materialized in his fridge. Did he buy it and not remember? Were his friends pranking him? Could this be connected to the mysterious doctor?

The toast popped and Will swiped it out of midair, slapping the crispy slice of bread onto a plastic plate. He gingerly unscrewed the jar, dipping his butter knife into its substance. The spread was white and creamy against the rough bread.

Steeling himself, Will took a bite.

"Mayonnaise?!"

Will quickly spit out the dreadful condiment. He hated mayonnaise above all things. Only his most dreadful and hated enemy would dare inflict mayonnaise upon him.

Steeling himself once more, Will marched across the hall to confront him.

His enemy.

Nay, his nemesis.

The terrible, despicable, awful, utterly abhorrent thorn-in-his-side, nail-in-his-heel, mayonnaise-on-his-3am-toast.

His neighbor.

Ned.