EVERY FRIDGE HAS A DARK SIDE

A descriptive output of one of the most loathed meals of childhood.

AS  the door swings open on its hinges, I see something wondrous, spectacular, and perhaps even frightening. My refrigerator has properties priorly unknown to me, smelling of acrid steak and pork. Properties that have cause this to mutate into a somewhat strange form. Ugly yet at the same time great and unique. But then, I see movement.... A heave and a ho, a blast of bitter air, finally a groan that rattles me. Even though it is very fascinating, this Thing on the third shelf next to the mashed potatoes and lettuce, it occurred to me; it could quite possibly be dangerous. I yearn to touch this Thing's leathery skin, but I reluctantly pull my hand back as I reach ever so forward. Wait! It has just shifted position, a remarkable feat for such a creature. Then a huff, followed by what can only be described of as a wink. I knew something was wrong with that meatloaf.

Author's Note

Please comment. (No haters. I have a Waffle House to keep 'em out.) Wrote this roughly one year ago and have revised and edited. Hope you enjoy!