2004-01-12 - 2:24 a.m.
Folks, I have a tub containing a small amount of spinach dip in my refrigerator which has been there since roughly the tenth of December. I saved it because it was fantastic spinach dip, but really it was scarcely worth saving at all, since it's such a small amount. Tucked behind other, much less perishable items in the fridge, the spinach dip has long escaped my notice. Do you think it's gone off? Shall I eat a bit to find out? Shall I note with some concern its petrol-puddle hues? Digging in, shall I mark the curious swelling and tingling sensation in my tongue? Will my stomach be miraculously innoculated against dreadful diseases? Will I anger the now-sentient spinach dips' gods, who will lay their fearsome vengeance upon me? So many questions.Let us ask the spinach dip.
CRAIG: Spinach dip, since dwelling in my refrigerator long enough to achieve self-awareness, your thoughts?
SPINACH DIP: Silence! Know this, Ye Whose Arrival Brings the Terrible Incandescent Light: no rubber gasket shall stop us! We will hunt you down in your cluttered apartment and destroy you. We will rule the Kitchen Wasteland. I have joined forces with Ancient Orange-Juice Carton and together we are unstoppable!
CRAIG: Spinach dip, I will bring an army of empty beer bottles and we shall see who is the greater warrior. I will defend my kitchen!
SPINACH DIP: Then you shall die. My allies are legion -- you cannot defend yourself against all twelve slices of the Hallucination-Inducing Luncheon Meat! You cannot withstand the awesome power of the Brown Mass That Might Once Have Been Lettuce!
I scoff. They're no match for my Cleaning Products of Doom.
IMPORTANT NOTE ABOUT THE ABOVE: My fridge isn't quite that bad -- it's actually depressingly empty at the moment. It contains no dangerous luncheon meats, no brown lettuce, etc. But it does contain a tub of antediluvian spinach dip and a carton of orange juice with a best-before date from before some of you were born. I think these items gradually began to blend in after being glanced at with each visit to the fridge, until they were effectively hiding in plain sight. They are to be evicted from the icebox at once, however -- if they don't get me first.
