I had one eye half-open, and the other still hermetically sealed. Stumbling to the kitchen, I pushed the ‘on’ button to our beloved Keurig Coffee maker, and wobbled over to the fridge. I love mornings when I’m not rushed, when I can begin at a nice, easy, relaxed pace. Nothing is better than a gentle awakening. With a smile, a sigh, and a tug, I opened the fridge door,
and it hit me.
Like a big knuckly fist had punched me square in the nose.
The stench was indefinable. Part garlic, part onion, part something-died-in-the-non-too-distant-past.
My other eye flipped open faster than a runaway roller shade.
I slammed the door shut.
I don’t know what it was, but I do know I need to find it, remove it, and clean out the fridge before My Captain gets home. I don’t want him to suffer the same fate.
But I’m afraid. I’m very afraid.
What could it be? What forgotten leftover has been evolving in the back of my fridge? And what if it was just the right combination of organic content that it passed some evolutionary barrier hitherto unknown to man, and has achieved a sentient state? What if I go in to get it, and it eats my hand?
It’s better not to think about it. There’s nothing else for it. I’m going in.
I’m going in.
But first, coffee……