Work enjoys sending out interesting Friday afternoon ‘clean the fridge’ reminders. This week I offered to write something in the style of H.P. Lovecraft, and the marketing department styled it up on fake paper. I share it here for your enjoyment. There is a longer version but the essence is contained within. Read on and enjoy this light farce.
Diary Found in an Empty Fridge
Dear diary, I realise I may never return to my loved ones in my quest for the Lost Lunch. Legend has it that it lies somewhere in the Metroplex fridges. God only knows what indescribable items that were once food I may find on my journey. May He have mercy on my soul.
I camped by the fridges last night. My sleep was undisturbed, thankfully. I fear though that something broke free in the night. There is a strange smell in my encampment, a faint smear on the ground that might be Thai green curry. Had something seen me? I could discern nothing out of place amidst the bedewed milk bottles and plastic bags.
It happened again last night. I tried to stay awake, but I drifted off and woke with more tracks about me. Something is growing inside those containers. No sightings of Lost Lunch so far.
I forget why I came here. I fear I am going mad.
I woke tonight and found myself standing as if in a trance in front of the larger fridge, door open. My arms were stretched into that treacherous forest of bags and containers and then I felt myself stepping forward!
It has become too much. I am packing my encampment up. There is something in here, something mouldy and ancient and … the smells cloud my judgement.
I will gird myself this afternoon and clear it out, every last bag and container, righteous or corrupt, owned or abandoned. I leave only this diary as a warning for future generations.
Don’t mourn me. The corruption growing inside these fridges will be gone, once and for all, by 4:30pm.