Lately, my refrigerator has been giving me the cold shoulder. I think it’s because I’ve been putting our relationship on ice. She misses the Netflix and chill, especially our midnight snacking sessions.
I can’t help it. I’m on a diet. She shouldn’t take it so personally. I wouldn’t need to diet if I was running all the time like her.
Besides, everyone knows what happens when you eat after midnight. Gremlins. Still, what harm could one little late-night snack do? You know, for old times’ sake.
That’s when I discovered the pepperoni from my Pup-Peroni Pizza two anecdotes ago was still in there. Apparently, it had been neglected for so long that it had lost all its pep. In fact, it looked downright sick. So much for cured meats, right?
It had turned a sickly greenish-brown and smelled vaguely like cigarettes for some reason.
I pulled out my stethoscope. I always keep one handy for situations like these. They happen more often than you’d think.
I placed it against the pepperoni and listened for a heartbeat. Instead, I heard something that resembled a 1980s movie theme.
Just as I was about to throw it away, it moved! Then the individual slices started gathering for what looked like a pep rally.
The slices fused into a slimy creature sporting bat-like ears and a spiky white mohawk. It flashed a sinister grin, revealing a mouthful of jagged teeth, before feverishly devouring my girlfriend’s leftover ice cream shakes.
Not that it was me, of course. It was after midnight, after all.
The following evening, my girlfriend came over and discovered her ice cream shakes were missing.
Naturally, I told her the refrigerator was heartbroken. Everyone knows getting over a breakup requires a certain amount of ice cream. I knew she’d never believe me if I told her what really happened.
She said, “If you ate my ice cream, just say so. Looks like you ate the pepperoni, too.”