Ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you a humble and broken man. Were it to come to pass that I am not a Pagan/Buddhist/anarchist with atheist leanings but rather a Jesus-humping God-fearing love-preaching hate-practicing holy roller, I would fear no hell – because I have cleaned out my fridge and lived to bring you this tale.

Solid sheets of crud. Slivers of rancid butter. Unopened milk that expired over a month ago. Yolk that exploded from frozen eggs, fossilized into a light yellow crust of unmentionable horror. Crevices that, when sprayed with a household cleanser, ejected chunks of black mystery all over my traumatized self. A jar of shriveled pickles from the dawn of time itself, suspended in frozen ancient mariner brine. Lemons that look perfectly normal but upon further inspection have clearly suffered unspeakable monstrosities and are no longer pockets of citrus delight but rather organic grenades capable of untold destruction. Applesauce so old it may well have been made from the very apples that brought about the downfall of man via Eve’s disobedient mouth. All this – and MORE – came from our refrigerator and truly, I am shaken to my very core.

I will not sleep soundly this, or any, night.