J Anfinson
April 3rd, 2013, 04:15 AM
This is just one of those ideas that came to me and wouldn't go away. I thought the overall idea was pretty funny, so I hope someone else gets a kick out of it too.
***
Leftovers
A splattering noise came from the kitchen and I buried my face in my hands.
Not again.
I muted the tv and got up from my recliner. As I reached for the handle on the refrigerator, something else thudded against the door. I yanked it open.
A carton of eggs stood open on the top shelf. There were several missing, which I discovered had been thrown against the inside of the door. I watched the yokes as they slid down the side of a jar of pickles and drop to the linoleum.
“Attack,” a voice cried.
A fuzzy green arm shot out of a plastic container and grabbed another egg from the carton. I ducked as it threw it at me, and the egg sailed over my head by inches. It exploded against a kitchen chair.
“Dammit,” I said. “How many times do we have to go through this? I’m not letting you out of the fridge.”
“Out of my way,” the voice said. “And bow to your new leader!”
“I think not,” something on the bottom shelf said. “They will bow to me.”
The mashed potatoes were always plotting to take over the world, but the meatloaf had plans of its own. I was always in the crossfire.
“Guys, listen,” I said. “We need to get along, alright? I know it’s not much of a life in there, but I can’t let you out either. You’d stink up the apartment.”
“You should smell yourself,” the meatloaf grumbled.
I sniffed my armpit. Nothing a little deodorant couldn’t fix.
“Regardless, throwing food around and creating a mess isn’t going to get you anywhere with me. If you ever expect me to let you out into the world, you’re going to have to learn to be nice. You can either play by my rules, or I’ll toss you down the garbage disposal.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” the mashed potatoes said.
“Try me.”
“Maybe we should form a temporary truce,” the meatloaf said.
“We may have to. He seems to be stronger at the moment.”
“That’s right,” I said. “And until you two grow legs you won’t be leaving anyway, so you may as well get used to it.”
“He’s got a point,” the meatloaf said. A slimy tongue slid along the rim of the bowl I’d put it in. The lid had come loose ages ago, and had fallen to the side. I wasn’t about to reach down there to put it back on, something might bite me.
“So do we have a deal,” I asked.
“For now,” the mashed potatoes said. “But sooner or later, you will bow down!”
I cleaned up the mess and shut the door. This was getting way out of hand.
Maybe I shouldn’t have waited so long to clean out the fridge.
***
Leftovers
A splattering noise came from the kitchen and I buried my face in my hands.
Not again.
I muted the tv and got up from my recliner. As I reached for the handle on the refrigerator, something else thudded against the door. I yanked it open.
A carton of eggs stood open on the top shelf. There were several missing, which I discovered had been thrown against the inside of the door. I watched the yokes as they slid down the side of a jar of pickles and drop to the linoleum.
“Attack,” a voice cried.
A fuzzy green arm shot out of a plastic container and grabbed another egg from the carton. I ducked as it threw it at me, and the egg sailed over my head by inches. It exploded against a kitchen chair.
“Dammit,” I said. “How many times do we have to go through this? I’m not letting you out of the fridge.”
“Out of my way,” the voice said. “And bow to your new leader!”
“I think not,” something on the bottom shelf said. “They will bow to me.”
The mashed potatoes were always plotting to take over the world, but the meatloaf had plans of its own. I was always in the crossfire.
“Guys, listen,” I said. “We need to get along, alright? I know it’s not much of a life in there, but I can’t let you out either. You’d stink up the apartment.”
“You should smell yourself,” the meatloaf grumbled.
I sniffed my armpit. Nothing a little deodorant couldn’t fix.
“Regardless, throwing food around and creating a mess isn’t going to get you anywhere with me. If you ever expect me to let you out into the world, you’re going to have to learn to be nice. You can either play by my rules, or I’ll toss you down the garbage disposal.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” the mashed potatoes said.
“Try me.”
“Maybe we should form a temporary truce,” the meatloaf said.
“We may have to. He seems to be stronger at the moment.”
“That’s right,” I said. “And until you two grow legs you won’t be leaving anyway, so you may as well get used to it.”
“He’s got a point,” the meatloaf said. A slimy tongue slid along the rim of the bowl I’d put it in. The lid had come loose ages ago, and had fallen to the side. I wasn’t about to reach down there to put it back on, something might bite me.
“So do we have a deal,” I asked.
“For now,” the mashed potatoes said. “But sooner or later, you will bow down!”
I cleaned up the mess and shut the door. This was getting way out of hand.
Maybe I shouldn’t have waited so long to clean out the fridge.