Suspects; My Hobbit-like wife, Sheila and the dookie licking daughter, Lacy.
I had searched almost an hour for the bacon that I had bought the day before and stashed in the crisper drawer of our refrigerator.
It was Farmland’s Hickory Smoked Bacon with low sodium.
It was nowhere to be found.
I tore that fridge apart!
I even looked under the lettuce for god sakes!
I even checked the receipt from the grocery store to make sure I hadn’t imagined it…
I am almost 50 years old, after-all…I….forget stuff……sometimes…..a little.
I didn’t remember waking during the night and experiencing a pseudo-sexual bacon feeding frenzy.
I thought about it for a second….
If anyone knows, I know….that anything can happen @ 2 am in a dark kitchen, bathed in the low glow of light from the fridge.
No, that only happens with my Oreo Crumbles Ice Cream.
Yes, thank you for asking. I am seeking help.
I searched the Bible. There is absolutely NOTHING in there about midnight fridge pilfering.
There is something, here and there, about gluttony, though.
I don’t consider it gluttony because I have always stopped plying my pie hole with said chosen craving when there is at least a tablespoon or more of ice cream or Jell-o left in the container.
I have self-control, so, that wipes out gluttony.
Ain’t it weird how when we can’t find something we are looking for in the fridge, that we stand there, staring into the fridge, holding the door open, waiting for the desired craving to magic back into existence?
Here’s another thought…
If crime scene investigators applied the same efforts that a fridge search demands, they would have found Hoffa by now…..and Noah’s Ark.
As I stood there looking into the fridge, waiting for the magic, my sleepy faced, disheveled better half stumbled into the kitchen, her little Hobbit feet in those stupid, fuzzy green socks; her faded pink sweat pants hanging low at one hip and her over-big New Orleans Saints jersey wrinkled and hanging from one shoulder…Her hair rumpled and gravitationally immune to the rotation of the earth…
She’s so sexy in the morning.
One of my suspects had returned to the scene of the crime.
Hobbit woman shuffled up next to me, yawning widely and wrapped her arms around my waist, nestling her face into my chest.
I leaned my face forward to give her a smooch on top of the head…
You gotta soften up the suspects first…
Her hair smelled like bacon.
“Aha!” cries I jumping back “You sneaky little butt-hole, you ate all of my bacon, didn’t you?!”
She looked up at me and said “…no”
“You lie!” I cried, pushing the bacon hording wench away from me.
Her eyes widened and she giggled “No way mister, I got up with you last night and cooked it for you and Lacy!”
I knew part of that was an obvious lie. Lacy only comes out of her tomb after dark.
Besides, Lacy only eats Ramen noodles or Hamburger Helper….So, she’s in the clear.
“Oh no, you didn’t!” I said “I think I’d remember eating a whole pack of bacon”
She stared at me for a second, then turned from me and reached into the sink, pulled out a greasy frying pan, a butter-knife with what appeared to be a smidgen of mayonnaise on the blade and a wilted slice of tomater…
“Clever” I said “That doesn’t prove a thing”
She pointed at my shirt and asked in that lying, deceiving voice I know, oh so well; “What do you call that?”
I followed her treacherous finger and saw that there were some small grease stains on my shirt.
“Those have been there forever!” I said, falsely accused!
“Mm hmm” she mumbled.
“I can’t believe you ate all of that bacon you…you…stealer!” I accused.
Ignoring my further postulations of her guilt, she put the pan and knife back into the sink and began to wash them.
When she had finished, she put the pan on the stove and lit the burner.
She skulked over to the fridge, like all thieves do, opened the door, reached in behind the milk and left-over chili and pulled out a pack of bacon.
She held it up for me to get a good, long look.
I was dumbstruck….
…light fading…..sanity slipping….undies wedging….
Of course not…
“I looked all over that fridge!” I cried “How did you do that!?”
“Do what?” she asked
“Make that bacon appear! It wasn’t in there a second ago, I tore that fridge apart!” I screamed.
Ignoring me, she opened the bacon pack then adjusted the heat under the pan.
“I know how you look for stuff, big boy” The she-devil muttered.
“WITCH!!” I screamed; pointing the mandatory crooked finger at her that all accusations of “WITCH!!” must entail.
Ignoring me, she began to place slices of the bacon in the pan, where it began to sizzle.
Giving me a shitty look over her shoulder, she said “If you ever looked behind something or under something, you might actually find what you’re looking for”
I was appalled…
“I always look behind stuff!” I protested.
“Mm hmm” she muttered again…
I hate it when she does that!
“Well, Mr. Crazy man, get over yourself and get the bread out of the fridge and I’ll make you a (she does the quote thingees with her fingers) “Ghost BLT”.
I looked at her for a second…
No, I couldn’t kill her just yet, I thought…
Who would feed the damn dog…?
I opened the fridge door and looked in.
I looked behind the milk.
I looked behind the left-over chili.
I looked in the crisper drawers.
“The breads not in here” I said, staring into the void, waiting for the fridge magic to happen.
“Move…” she said as she rudely and most viciously pushed me aside…
I almost fell down!
“Hmmmm” I thought to myself “So forceful…” I considered cooking HER bacon.
Morning blast of testosterone, you see….
But now was not the time for early morning Russian convict sex…
I must stay focused.
“Look, a squirrel!”….not really.
The bread was missing.
As I fell back from her most violent and un-called for aggression, she leaned into the fridge.
I tried to look over her shoulder as she fidgeted and moved things around inside the box.
“Hmmp” muttering as she stood up; she turned to me, holding up the bread.
Her eyebrow arched at me…
“Witch…” I whispered.
Fridge magic is a woman thingee, I guess….
“Can you find my truck keys now?”
She gave a blood-curdling scream that sounded like “ASSHOLE!” then she grabbed me, throwing me bodily onto the dining room table, ripping and tearing at my clothes, cackling the whole time!
The look in her eyes almost drove me into insanity!
No! Not this way! I am only a man, a human….I must be treated with love and respect!!!!
My head was spinning, I cried out to God, Jesus and Buddha to protect me…I think I even screamed for my mother…!!
The she-beast was licking and biting, pinching and twisting!
“Batman!!!!” I screamed, trying to fight off this rutting, drunken Mongol in fuzzy, green socks!
I was losing the battle to preserve my dignity as a man, nay; my very soul!
The horny toad was grunting into my ear, trying to force my arms apart….laughing and giggling…GOD, she’s so strong!!!
“Oh my god, get a room” said a small voice behind us.
The wanton mauling of my person halted.
She has her mother’s morning hair….poor child.
For some silly reason, I found myself surprised that the sunlight coming from the window above the sink had not made her burst into flames….
I didn’t know she had freckles….
There was a look of disgust and shame on her face.
There was also a plate of half eaten pieces of a “Ghost BLT” in her hands….
I freaking knew it!!!
They were in on it together, the whole time!
“You’re mother was making me some bacon” I stuttered, shoving my shirt back into place.
“Mm hmmm” Lacy mumbled…
Not her too….
“You guys are disgusting” she said as she slithered back into her crypt.