by Christine Stoddard

Created on: November 26, 2009   Last Updated: May 18, 2011

"Like an Eggshell"

The refrigerator hummed its mundane kitchen appliance song. Nestled inside its bright white suit of armor lied stacks of pita, American cheese, tortillas, honey-cured ham, baguettes, salami, and various other breads, cheeses, and deli meats. Every item in the 'fridge brandished fuzzy, blue-gray splotches. The presence of mold within the big box gave the collection of comestibles the look of decaying organs. The knight, stinking of death, lied limp on the battlefield.

Suddenly someone dove milky fists into his body.

Her name was Lanetta. From ashy lashes to dusty eyes to colorless skin, she stood as translucently as a ghost. Lips shaped like a tombstone and fingers knotted into brambles, every bit of her whispered solemnity.

Lanetta surveyed the contents of the 'fridge, from sliced turkey to chunky cornbread, and sighed.

"Spoiled again."

She seized a hunk of bread and tossed it into the garbage bag that sat at her feet. Then she threw away a package of roast beef, a stick of pepperoni, and a bunch of aimless rolls.

"Ugh. So disgusting." A bag of mini-pitas plopped onto the growing pile of discarded food. The pitas then issued a nebulous cloud. The cloud resembled thousands of mushroom spores exploding into the air after a chickadee tapped their mother's cap with its hungry beak. Lanetta coughed.

The noises of the woman's rummaging echoed throughout the kitchen. She touched a piece of foil and it crunched. Upon grabbing a paper bag, it folded into a yielding crumpling sound.

As Lanetta scraped through the refrigerator, brown gunk seeped into the tiny crevices beneath her fingernails. It stung, as if full of legions and legions of ice crystals. Glossy photographs of shining, new refrigerators hovered in Lanetta's mind. Commercials drummed in her head. Instantly, Lanetta's soiled hand slid into her pocket, where a Sear's coupon slept, waiting for its owner to awaken her at the cash register.

Soon Lanetta began dumping everything in sight out of the 'fridge until it was completely empty. She threw her whole body into the act, thrusting her arms forward and her hips back as she dug deeper and deeper. She raked everything to the front of the 'fridge until boxes, cans, bottles, and packets alike plummeted from the cracked shelves. The food crashed to the floor, with about 2/3 of it actually landing in the garbage bag. The rest found its niche on the amber tiles.

"God," Lanetta groaned, "Always the same mess." Her chin dropped down on

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