Fridge Fight

Do you bite your crumb at us, sir?

I did witness quite a sight
Returning from the grocery store:
A disheveled scene, a ripened fight
Left the fridge basted in war.

It started with the Surly beers,
They shoved peach Yogurts to the back.
Knowing well they’d be forgotten —
They took it as a personal attack.

One young custard whisked up top and
Let out its gurgling, dairy cry
To engage their reinforcements in
The cheese drawer, under Apple Pie.

A squad of Mozza Sticks strung up
Advancing toward spicy Ortega,
When suddenly condiments rained from above —
Flinging them a-Weyauwega.

The crusty caps of ketchup broke
Upon the rinds of cheddar blocks
As Sergeant Syrup found himself
Stuck to a pack of salmon lox.

Major Mustard, having seen enough
Slipped down to save his ketchup friend
But Tomatogues rushed to the scene —
Their kin they knew they must defend.

Fresh Shallotlets climbed from below
Intent on dicing their reddish foes
The family feud churned and grew
As roots chopped fruits with stinging blows.

Melons hashed the radishes,
Whilst apples peeled fresh lettuce heads.
The chaos could not be controlled
As green peppers fought against the reds.

Broccoli heads blanched podded peas,
Stalked celery teamed up with stringed beans,
The Spinach creamed, asparagus steamed…
It brought new meaning to ‘mixed greens.’

The commotion could not be contained,
But underneath it all love brewed,
As Julienne, a Shallotlet
Sung to her Roma Tomatogue.

The battle broiled, the struggle seared,
All through the fridge the conflict leeked.
Until they rose, from cardboard throne,
One dozen voices proudly screeched.

Their Humpty heads called down below
To poach for peace and reparations
A mincing marriage was needed fast
To secure the fridge’s fierce foundations.

Breaking silence, the lovers emerged
Declaring their star-crust, eternal love
Against the wishes of their drawers
Though golden yolks applauded above.

The quick-whipped wedding began with haste
Uniting drawers both high and low
A stick of butter slid down the aisle
Greasing a path to groomsman cookie-dough.

The two fates met under parsley strands,
Tomatogues and Shallotlets were awed
As Mayo married Roma and Julienne —
A union in sav’ry remoulade.

The more I age, the more I feel like I know absolutely nothing — and that’s the whole point, isn’t it?

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