Assignment 12- Jacob Young

My favorite day of the year just passed. The day after thanksgiving. The day that I am the most full. Yes, I am a refrigerator. I love that sweet feeling of enormous amounts of thanksgiving leftovers sitting in even the darkest and most far-reaching depths of my shelves. Somebody didn't eat enough stuffing yesterday. Oh, and here comes some mashed potatoes, already salted and buttered. I wish I had hands so I could try a bit; or eat anything that resides inside me for that matter. Occasionally I'll get that one ice cube or potato chip that gets kicked under me, but even that I cannot eat. What a terrible feeling it is. To have so much inside of you, so much happiness, and for that all of be taken away by some pig humans who spill half of whatever they're eating on themselves anyway. Especially that little one. He's seven years old, or around that age. Spaghetti is the worst day of all. I must endure the torture of sitting there and watching him drop noodle after noodle onto the floor; only for his annoyed mother to come and mop up later. 

My years go by, ups and downs. Every now and then the family will have some sort of party in which I am very content. They fill me up with who knows what, a six-pack of Newcastle for the father and his friends, a box of chocolate-covered strawberries for the mother and her friends, and the container of Kroger chicken strips for all of the kids. Oh, how I wish I could even have a small taste of what resides in me.