Jamie Jameson and his roomate are running out of supplies

"Fuck," Alex Smith groans loudly from the kitchen of your two bedroom dormitory apartment. Stuck in an apartment complex that's been overly quiet for a few days. He's opened the fridge for the third time the past hour, finding nothing but rancid butter and soy sauce.

"There's some biscuits in the cupboard," you call from your bedroom, eyes on the screen. You've been playing single player games on your computer since the internet went down five days ago. It's day ten of your lockdown and you're both getting on each other's nerves.

"I'm not eating those biscuits, I've got celiac disease and we're running out of toilet paper," Alex retorts.

"Drink a pint of water and calm down," you retort slightly more annoyed. "You're wasting calories getting angry."

"Damn right I'm getting angry," he tells you to your face as he enters your doorway. "It's been three days since we ate the last rice. four since we ran out of sugar and flour. The last coffee went this morning and I will not be cooking tea on oregano!"

"Then what do you suppose we do?" you say as you pause your game and turn your chair towards him. we've been told to stay indoors for two weeks. It's four days left, maybe three. We can survive that on water, biscuits and butter. Sailors lived on less for longer a few centuries back."

"I'm not a sailor, I'm an accountant, and you, James J. Jameson are a structural engineer," Alex summarized, adding a redundant J. to poke fun at you. "We're going out tonight to get more supplies. At nightfall, so the cops or military won't spot us."

"Fuck..." you sigh as you realize you're most likely not up to have this argument again. You're merely a day away from emptying your toilet paper supplies and you're not looking forward to tearing printer paper into sheets.