Mr. Freezemeister

Alright freezer, freezer freeze, do as I please Mr. Freezemeister, I have had enough of your belligerence.  You freeze everything in the freezer box, and that not how it supposed to work.  You freeze up all the water supplied to you which is suppose to be used to make a hospitable home for my food; instead, you freeze into a big block of ice leaving no room for anything else except your ice block.  How you love your behemoth of an ice block.  Your big, large ice block.  How proud you are of that.  How you grow it with obstinance and total lack of grace.

You know, you are interfering with the second greatest discovery to modern man.  The first being the hominines’ discovery of food production in the Levant in 9000 BC. You want to interfere with all this progress and deny me freezer food storage?  At first, I reduced my food storage in the freezer box until all I could store were my beloved bag of pizza rolls. But, that wasn’t enough for you.  You grew over my beloved pizza rolls until I had to rip the bag out.  That frozen chicken breast is still down inside your block of ice by the way.  I haven’t forgotten.  You have her hostage in your icy captivity.  Free Tibet?  Free my chicken breast Mr. Freezemeister.

Last month, we went to war you and I,  when I turned down the temperature; therefore, like denying you a water supply.  A lesson from General Eisenhower and the Allies’ WWII North African Campaign known as Operation Torch.  Just like the allies hit Tunis, I hit your logistics supply.  Oh the victory was in my grasp as your ice block slowly started melting, but your next move was clever, quite clever indeed.  You melted your ice block back into water.  It dripped into my fridge where I had to quickly place bowls and bowls and more bowls inside to catch the water.  It became mayhem, and then you somehow were able to drip down onto the floor and leave a puddle.  Puddles here and there Mr. Freezemeister.  You had me wiping it up day in and day out.  Then, if I let it dry, it left behind a grotesque white filmish film in the refrigerator and on the the floor.  Finally, I had to turn up the temperature again to stop the water to stop the puddles.  Now, I see you are growing your beloved ice block again, and my chicken breast is still encased in your frozen tomb.  Oh, the agony of defeat.  You win this battle but not the war Mr. Freezemeister.  Not the war.

 

 

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