A dying fridge

This is a post to practice the anatomy of a story or “Story Engineering” as Larry Brooks titles it in his book. It’s not going to be impressive, but the goal isn’t to be great, the goal is to get better. Slap that aphorism on a motivational poster and I’ll buy it. Plus, apparently practice is crucial in developing a skill. Everyone should go read Malcolm Gladwell’s “Outliers” now.

The post is only going to be less than 1000 words, since I’ve got other stuff to do, like going to the gym before it closes at 9:00. And hopefully watching the Raptors crush the Celtics in game 7. I don’t have cable, so I have to run on the treadmill every time I want to watch ESPN. That seems like a healthy form of irony - I can only watch tv by doing something active.
Anyways, here’s the story:

Once upon a time there was a society of foods living happily within a fridge. Divided among the 3 different neighborhoods were several foods that got on splendidly amongst themselves. On the top shelf, Carrot and Apple had a daily tennis match. Carrot was never any good and the games were one-sided; yet, Apple loved to teach more than he loved to compete, so it was fun for both. In midtown (the middle shelf) the leftovers would talk politics long into the night. Pizza always played devil’s advocate to Lasania’s insights, but it was always in good nature. On bottom, Egg and Milk played games. Board games, word games, video games, any type of game was fair game. The foods mostly stuck to their neighborhood, but enjoyed venturing out to other borrows or welcoming foods to their own community. Things were peaceful.

Then one day, a spacecraft floated down from the heavens, landing in midtown. All the foods gathered to see the strange vessel. The spacecraft had sharp edges and was flat on all sides. It was very colorful, consisting of bright reds, blues, and yellows. It made the residents fearful. It was a disruption to their peace. Nothing had emerged from the spacecraft, but the general consensus was that something evil was inside. 

In response to the foreign object, an emergency council meeting was called. 
“We need to move,” said Apple. “It isn’t safe in the fridge anymore.”
“We don’t know that,” countered Egg. “Maybe it will let us alone if we leave it alone.”
The other foods, the ones who lived furthest from Midtown and the ones not apt for change, agreed that was a good course of action.
However, Pizza would have none of it. He screamed, “No, this is our home! We have been attacked and our peace will not be taken from us. The time of living in fear is over!” 
Pizza proceeded to throw a pipe bomb at the spacecraft.

Unfortunately, Pizza wasn’t good with aim, so the bomb flew to the back of the fridge, landing closer to the fridge itself than the spacecraft. An explosion!

When the smoke had settled, the foods saw the fridge had been heavily damaged. Yet, there was a large hole leading to the inside of the spacecraft. While the other foods overcame their shock, Pizza ventured into the ship. As he approached, great perspiration came over him - it felt as if the atmospheric temperature had increased. 

Inside he saw 6 scared aliens, all huddled in the opposite corner. They were small and freighted themselves. The aliens were yellow, of a sponge-like texture, and cylinder shaped. Each was wearing a transparent spacesuit that fully encompassed their body. If it had been the other foods, they would have felt empathy toward the meekness that were the aliens. Pizza however saw an opportunity to vanquish the perceived threat. He reached down and ripped the spacesuit of the nearest alien into pieces. The other aliens watched in horror at the violence; they screamed, but didn’t intervene at fear of being attacked themselves. Then Pizza, with all his strength, punched the exposed alien in the heart. The fist went entirely through the alien. From the wound, white frosting blood gushed out; the alien died quickly. Pizza turned to the next target, but was pulled back by Carrot. 

Pizza struggled in a rage, “Let me finish the job.”
Carrot said, “There’s something going on with Egg you need to see. He has a terrible fever.”

Pizza dropped his ambitions and sprinted towards his friend. The weather outside the spaceship had drastically changed. The heat had risen significantly. When he arrived to see Egg, Pizza saw a sickly shadow of his friend. Egg gave off a vile smell, his texture had darked, and his shape had collapsed in on itself. It was a grim scene. Egg would likely die within the next two hours. Looking around at the other foods, Pizza saw they too looked sickly. Clearly they all had been infected by the aliens, he thought to himself.

The days that followed came with death. Pizza, in a rampage, made efforts to destroy the spaceship and the aliens inside, but they, fighting for their lives, had barricaded the ship. Egg soon died and a funeral followed suit. The condition of the other foods worsened. Both Pizza himself and Lasania began to grow cancerous mold. Apple and Carrot began to lose shape and change color, death-like colors - browns, yellows and blacks. Milk was the second to die. Beforehand he had been throwing up constantly, large tumorous clumps that smelt as vile as Egg in his last moments. After Milk, Lasagna died. Something inside him literally exploded, covering the neighborhoods of the fridge in decay. Poetically, Apple and Carrot died together. They died holding hands. Boney, shriveled hands.

Pizza lost the strength to fight the aliens. He laid on the ground and went into convulsions. He concluded the presence of the aliens had brought on this calamity, they were the reason the heat had risen and all his friends had died. He closed his eyes and died himself.

***

The other day (this is the author speaking), I returned from a weekend vacation. I opened the fridge to find that most all the foods had spoiled. Somehow the fridge had been turned off or broken. Strangely, but obviously the cause of the malfunction, there were char marks on the inside of the fridge. It was as if a small explosion had gone off. ‘Very weird,’ I thought to myself, but not caring too much. I grabbed the one food that hadn’t perished and ate that. A Twinkie.