Refrigerator Politics

By, Joni (2002)

Short Story, Silly Fiction

Ketchup sat inside the refrigerator thinking quietly to himself. There really is not much else to do when you are a condiment in a fridge.

“I am the best condiment in the whole world!” he thought to himself.

“Excuse me?” a voice called incredulously in the dark.

Ketchup jumped. He hadn’t realized it but he must have voiced his thought aloud. He searched for the origination of the voice vainly in the dark. With the refrigerator door closed there isn’t much to see within.

“Who said that?” Ketchup called.

“Never mind me, who are you to exclaim you are the best condiment?”

Ketchup pulled himself up as proudly as he could, throwing out his bottle top in an impressive fashion, “I am Ketchup. I am the best because I am the condiment of choice for nearly everything!”

“Ha!” called the voice. “You may be used more then the rest of us, but that doesn’t make you necessarily the best.” Other voices muttering quietly to themselves could be heard rising from the dark joining the rogue.

“Well,” Ketchup said, faltering slightly, “I am used on hamburgers, hot dogs, and even French fries. Also, some people even put me on their eggs, although I don’t know why.”

A squelching noise could be heard from the egg drawer—it sounded suspiciously like someone gagging. Several giggles rose up around Ketchup.

“We don’t need to you make us taste good!” a small but confident voice called from the direction of the eggs.

“Whatever you say, Ketchup,” the rogue voice again sounded in the dark. “You may be more widely used…even for odd things like eggs, but I submit that you are not the best.”

“We are not odd!” called the egg drawer.

“Sorry,” apologized the rogue. “That was not a personal comment. No offense intended.”

“S’alright,” answered the eggs.

“As I was saying,” the voice continued, unperturbed, “There are many wonderful condiments. Take Mayonnaise for instance…”

“Hey, what about me?” the Mayo squawked, sounding embarrassed. “I’d rather not be dragged into this argument.”

“I was only going to point out that you are used on sandwiches all the time while Ketchup is hardly ever used. To the one making the sandwich, you are rather special.”

“Oh…well, that it something isn’t it?” the Mayo questioned sounding slightly pleased. “Thank you…whoever you are.”

“You’re welcome.”

“We are very tasty on hamburgers and for snacking on!” shouted the Dill Pickles.

“And I make any hot dog a real treat,” observed the Relish.

“I am very desirable on steak,” said the Barbeque Sauce.

“I have many uses for people who want something yummy,” cried the Ranch Dressing. “I’m not just for salads anymore!”

“I may not be a condiment but I am the most delicious thing in this fridge,” the Chocolate Syrup said rather proudly.

“Very true,” agreed the rogue voice.

“Yes, yes,” said the extremely agitated Ketchup, “But who are you, oh defender-of-the-lesser-condiments-of-the-fridge?”

“We are not ‘lesser condiments’, thank you very much!”

“Whatever. State your name or be quiet!”

“I am the Mustard of course.”

“Mustard?” the Ketchup laughed with contempt. “You are just the lowly Mustard? Give me a break.”

“I am not just any Mustard,” said the small jar proudly. “I am Grey Poupon!”

The contents of the entire refrigerator laughed loudly and heartily at this announcement.

“Good one!” giggled the cheese. “You ARE better then the Ketchup then! Ha ha ha!”
Ketchup stood angrily fuming as the refrigerator contents continued to tease and laugh at him.

“Just you wait, Mustard,” grumbled Ketchup. “I’ll get you for this.”

“I’d love to see you try, Nitwit!” shouted Mustard. “I’m on the shelf below you. Last time I looked you didn’t have any legs for moving about with!”

Again the entire fridge erupted in riotous laughter.

“Hey, shut up down there!” called an anxious voice.

“Why should we?” many voices called out.

“Because I am the Ruler of the Refrigerator, the Milk, and I say so! Not only that, but someone is coming!”

Many items in the fridge began to try an argue with Milk’s claim to being the Ruler, but all were immediately silenced as the door swung open, the light snapped on, and a hand reached in to grab a yogurt.

There was continued silence for a moment as the door was closed again and darkness returned.

“So, Mr. Milk,” the Mustard began, clearing her voice. “Who died and made you Ruler?”