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Published May 15, 2011

The Refrigerator from Ruin 5: Climbing the Crisper

To see what you missed in the last Chapter of Refrigerator from Ruin: Mr. Grindhouse, click here

 

 The bag of coffee beans, Mr. Grindhouse, plops down on the tiled floor and stares at the monolith of a fridge before his eyes. He approaches slow, weary that he may alert the peering eyes of the demonic infused Leftovers, who patrol the crisper bins and the main entranceway intro the frigid aired front gate.

 

 

Grindhouse spills a few beans out, to get as flat as possible against the crisper drawers as one of the Condiment Commander’s glass feet tap against the acrylic platform. The jar marches back to the other side of the fridge, and Grindhouse peers up to the door’s trays, where the vile Admiral Hot Sauce clutches onto his disenchanted girlfriend, Lady Marinade.

 

 

“Give us some hot stuff baby,” slurs the words of Hot Sauce, his spicy juices ooze through his gaping teeth and trickle down Marinade’s shoulder. The lady cocks her sauce label covered head off to the side, and looks down in despair at the tiled floor.

 

 

“Shouldn’t you be worrying about Eggxactomondo,” she whines and pushes the sauce away. The scattered and shattered pieces of egg shell on the tiled floor catch her eye, which form a trail to the bag of coffee beans that climbs up the crisper bin. A small smile crawls across her face, so she grabs Hot Sauce’s head and pulls him in for an unfortunate and disgusting kiss. A slobbering kiss long enough for Hot Sauce’s gaze to be distracted and permit Grindhouse to enter the lower level of the fridge.

 

 

The bagged bounty hunter crouches down across the transparent glass and peers down to see imprisoned vegetables within their crisp, controlled temperature environment.

 

A carrot peers upwards to its glass ceiling and sees a worried Grindhouse. The carrot puffs on the glass to create a cloud, and then turns itself upside down to sketch a message with its tip. “Bottled juices can help. Go Organics!”

 

Grindhouse nods his thanks and scoots silently towards a small collection of fruit and vegetable juices that are crammed in the colder depths of the fridge.

 

“I’ve come for a favor,” fog pours out of the bag’s mouth, which encircles the wide jug of fruit and vegetable blended cocktail mix.

 

“Yes I know,” the jug sucks back in the juices that swirl in its mouth. “My cousins in the crisper and the freezer have already informed me.”

 

“Then you know that I am here to rescue Gallon Maximus . . . again,” the beans utter in dismay.

 

“Of course we know you have come for that fool, but you gotta know something,” the juice sloshes closer, “we don’t like your kind around here bounty hunter.”

 

 

Suddenly the bag of coffee beans peers to his left and right. Several other jugs of the Master’s juices, wine and margarita mix move in closer onto the bag of beans as he is pressed back, deeper and deeper to the back of the fridge.

 

“Coming down from the heavens whenever ya like,” the juices utter in a mob-like tone, “freezing us as you please, beating us to the breakfast table. Don’t ya think we wanna get sucked into the Master’s mouth once in a while?”

 

The bag halts shuffling backwards as he feels a powerful energy pour out from a stiff corner in his back. He spins around and sees the legendary and enchanted box of baking soda, which grants all of the food in the appliance with life.

 

“Hold it right there Tooty Fruities!” The bag halts the bottles in their path as he threatens to tip the box over. “One false move and no one will remember what it’s like to be sucked on by the Master ever again!”

 

The bottles take the bluff seriously and lower their capped heads in shame. “What is it you need of us,” they ask through gritting teeth.

 

“Tell me which aisle I can find ice cream in?” Mr. Grindhouse gives a cocky smile to his group of outwitted beverages who turn to each other and contemplate the best way to get the bag of coffee beans up to the next level in the fridge.

 

Thanks so much to those of you that read previous installments of this absurdity. If you like where this is going, leave a comment, check off "helpful," or if it is "funny" on my Funny or Die site. Thanks everyone!

Be sure to check out part 1 of The Refrigerator from Ruin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

infiltrates the fridge and sees a dwindling bucket of ice cream which melts from the room temperature of the fridge

 

I have come to rescue

 

No, I really don’t want to go, this is dairy lna

 

Yes, the stick of butter reminds  him. He is with us now

 

Yes, yes, the Tobasco bottle wriethces his floating hands over his little girlfriend. Soon, the geatest warrior of the frozen tundra will melt away and then we will have the utter dominato of the organics.

 

But I do not want to go back to that land, they treat me terriably and I have made the choice to belong with you

 

Yes my friend, you do belong with us, says the boss. Now will someone get the eggwhiched idiot back together and over here.

 

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