Refrigerator Paranoia

There is duck sauce
In the freezer

There is tapioca pudding
And bread
And milk
And eggs
And ostrich testicles

There is something calling me
Calling out to me
To come
To come to the refrigerator

It wants to be clean
The fridge, it desires
It yearns

To be stainless
Like how its outsides used to be
Before the magnets
Stuck crude drawings
And school calendars
To its glossy surface

It wants to be emptied

A simple enough task
It would seem

Just eat the yogurt
Drink the orange juice
Peel the apple
And leave nothing but the seeds

But then you see the duck sauce
And think, Where did it come from?

When have you ever bought or stolen
Duck sauce?

Could someone else have put it in there?
Your child perhaps?

You go into her bedroom
But you will not wake her

She has school tomorrow

Of course you won't bother her
With inquiries
About mysterious sauces

Instead you return to the fridge
And guzzle down the duck sauce
Like fine wine

But then there is the bread
The Italian bread
The goat's milk
The penguin eggs
The testicles

You take in food
And more appears

Behind cartons
And containers

The frozen tapioca goes down
Especially hard

Endless gluttony
Awaiting you
And every time you try to stop
You hear the begging
Of the fridge

And what happens if you don't satisfy it?

What happens if you leave it full like this?

No wonder it's complaining

How heavy it must feel

It must feel like you do
All the time
With all this extra stuff
Inside you

You already feel that way
The fridge shouldn't have to hold
Your burden as well

This is your food, isn't it?
Isn't it?

It's in your fridge
After all

So you eat and you eat

And when you can't eat
You begin pulling things out
And putting them on the floor
And on the counters
And on the rug of the living room
Next to the kitchen

Frosting and crackers
And chips and chunks of butter
Begin filling up your house

You keep it out of your daughter's room
But your bedroom is not so lucky

Soon you are pushed back against your own pillows
Desperately trying to suck down some marshmallows
Before they suffocate you

When you wake up
You are in front of the open fridge
The light inside still beaming bright

Nothing in front of you
But a half-eaten yogurt carton

You slide your finger along the inside
And lick the remaining fake fruit off the bottom
Of the cup

Then you return to bed

You tell yourself
That the fridge is happy
That it will be quiet now

You hear it hum
And tell yourself
It's the same
As a cat purring
Happily

But as you drift off to sleep
The humming grows louder and louder
And down the hall from your room
Another door opens

And a little girl
Peaks her out
And wanders into the kitchen
To see what could be making
All that noise