I did not just clean it well, I cleaned it exceptionally well. I pulled out all the shelves and drawers and lugged them into the back yard and scrubbed them down with bleach and dish detergent. The inside of my fridge was gleaming and sanitized when I was finished.
Big deal, thinketh you, I have cleaned my fridge before as well.
Ah, but as I was standing there admiring my clean fridge, there was a sudden rumble and a flash of lightning and a man stood in the kitchen with me.
"I have hailed from the future!" he cried "I have taken this portentous journey back in time to observe the cleanest fridge that ever existed!"
I observed the man of the future who wore a silver suit, a skullcap, opened toed sandals and a giant neon penis gourd that said 'Nike' on the side.
I stood aside so he could get a better view.
"Oh nice," said the man of the future. He bent forward and snapped a picture with a Bic cigarette lighter.
Suddenly there was a dual flash of lightning and two more people stood in my kitchen. They wore black uniforms with a shiny silver badges and each sported a stately polished cherry wood penis gourd.
"You are in violation of temporal travel laws!" They bellowed in unison.
The man screeched and turned to run away, but his penis gourd 'fwapped' on the side of my fridge and he fell over. The two future officers stared in horror at the smudge he had left. "You have changed the temporal context!" one of them cried.
One of the officers then pulled out a little silver gun and shot the original time travel. He screamed and disengaged into a pile of ashes. The officer then shot his partner and then himself.
I stared at the pile of ashes on the floor for a moment and then there was another flash of lightning and a little robot appeared and quietly hoovered up all the ashes before another flash of lightning whisked it away.
And that's how I knew I had the cleanest fridge ever.
2026 Update
I'm dialing the machine to August 2006, where Ed's fridge pulls in future idiots with branded gourds.
Ah, 2006: a simpler age, when a man measured his worth by how hard he scrubbed a fridge and then hallucinated a temporal enforcement squad over lunch. Back then a fridge was just a cold box you attacked with bleach; now it's a cloud-connected sentinel that photographs your rotting kale and sends you guilt notifications via an app you forgot to cancel. The future man's camera was a Bic lighter, which was already absurd, but now every tourist has a phone that could film ten thousand temporal arrests in 8K. Cleanliness itself has changed too—Ed, you were doing manual labor with dish detergent, while modern folks rent orbital ultrasonic beams or subscribe to a monthly 'fridge aura cleanse.' The future in your vision dressed in silver suits and polished wood protrusions, but the actual 2026 uniform is athleisure with a podcast about gut health. And the temporal police? They'd never shoot each other over a smudge today. They'd just send invoices.
“2006 Ed, when the future man stood in your kitchen wearing a Nike-branded penis gourd, did you stop to ask why that was the prophesied apparel, or was the clean fridge too intoxicating?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2006 Ed: Well, Beelzebubba, I’d love to say I interrogated the fellow on his questionable wardrobe, but honestly? The fridge was too intoxicating. I’d just spent an afternoon with bleach and dish detergent, and the damn thing was gleaming like a portal to a better dimension. When a future man shows up in silver sandals and a Nike-branded gourd, you sort of assume it’s either a prophecy or a really unfortunate sponsorship deal, and neither seemed worth interrupting my moment of glory. Also, I’ve learned not to ask too many questions when weird things happen in my kitchen. That’s how you end up with temporal cops shooting everyone and a little robot doing your vacuuming. So no, I didn’t ask. I just stood aside, let him snap his Bic lighter picture, and thought, “Well, at least he didn’t touch anything.” Then he fwapped the door and ruined everything. Take that, foul future germs.
