Heir to the Fridge
written by: Leslie Rider
@writer317537
A human thrust a knife into Agent Mayonnaise on his first day and placed him on the middle shelf of the refrigerator door. Used to the comfort of room temperature and the quiet of the food pantry, he winced at the bright lights and shivered in the frigid air. Once they shut the door, everything turned black.
“Greetings Agent Mayonnaise,” a voice said. The soft whispers and sweet scent suggested a female condiment. “I’m Agent Ketchup. What’s your sell-by date?”
“October fifteenth, two-thousand twenty-four,” he replied with a tremble.
Did he shake from the cold of the fridge or the fear in his head? He didn’t know.
“You’re new,” she said.
“I arrived a week ago.”
“You sure?”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
“Agent, be precise. A week ago? Or two weeks?”
He thought a moment. “One week.”
“Who were you with? Bread? A bag of chips?”
“Ask’em if they’re stocking up,” a loud voice said behind Agent Ketchup. “Maybe they bought garbage bags. Or kitchen spray.”
“Lower your voice, Agent Hot Sauce,” she said. “We don’t want them opening the door thinking we can talk.”
“They’ll do a clean sweep any day.” His voice sailed up an octave, forcing a loud whisper. “We need to save the heir.”
She sighed. “I know.” A squeak from her bottom indicated her swivel to Agent Mayonnaise. “Any signs they’ll clean out the fridge soon?”
He shrugged.
“Maybe they’re collecting cleaners. Emptying the garbage can. Perhaps they said something.”
“I don’t remember.”
“What about a contract? It’s long slip of paper, on the right of the fridge. You see one out there?”
“I didn’t notice.”
“If you do, bring it in. We need it.”
“Of course. But who’s the heir?”
“He’s our next leader. See that white carton down there?”
All he saw were shadows. “Sort of.”
“That’s current leadership, Council of Eggs. They make important decisions. What food stays in the front. What to do with something smelly. But they’re old. Soon, they’ll be tossed out.”
A flicker of anxiety passed through him. “When?”
“We dunno. Luckily, we have an heir to the fridge for when the eggs leave.”
“Who’s he?”
“A lemon on that top shelf. He’ll last the longest.” Another squeak another turn of her bottom. “Larry, how’s life?”
“Not good,” he replied, his voice cracking. Soft rustles of his peel suggested he was rocking back and forth, potentially fearing the worst. “I’m first thing they’ll see. They’ll throw me out. Yet I’m still fresh. And the heir!”
“He’ll need protection from removal,” she whispered to the agent. “Also from the bread cabinet.”
“The bread cabinet?”
“They want him gone because of his life insurance policy. Every heir has one. It says if Larry dies, his stepson, a snack-sized chip bag, gets the following compensation: a soda, three cheese sticks and the position of heir to the fridge. I wanna check the policy to verify.”
“Why?”
“Might be trouble. His stepson’s the puppet of the bread cabinet. They’re completely lawless. He’ll let them take over.” She shook her top. “Larry needs to stay. He’s the heir. You’ll help with retrieval of the policy and reconnaissance.”
“But I’m new.”
“We need your help. Next time you leave, get the policy. It’s on the right side of the fridge. And look for signs if they’re cleaning us out soon. Maybe there’s kitchen spray. Or they’ve taken out the trash. Perhaps they got groceries.”
“Okay.”
***
The shock of the sudden bright light made Agent Mayonnaise shut his eyes and hold his breath. His heart rate skyrocketed as a hand on his lid lifted him off the refrigerator shelf and placed him on the counter.
Retrieve the contract and do the recon.
In the kitchen, he blinked and exhaled. His first job. What an adrenaline rush! What did he need to check? Cleaning supplies. An empty trash can. More groceries. The light coming from the window shone around the room. He took inventory. Dirty dishes in the sink. Trash overflowing. A loaf of bread next to him. And a plastic bag with luncheon meat on the other side.
“You recon?” the bread whispered to Agent Mayonnaise.
“Yeah,” he said, scooting closer to the loaf.
“Don’t move,” he said. “It’ll scare the human.”
Agent Mayonnaise froze. “When’ll they clean out the fridge?”
The loaf rolled its eyes. “Chill dwellers! Always up in arms about the clean sweeps. Sooner or later, everybody gets thrown out.”
“But we gotta save the heir.”
They paused. The human took the top off Agent Mayonnaise, scooped some of him onto a knife, and screwed on the lid. Drops of his innards dripped onto his jar’s bottom right side.
“Oh yeah, Larry.” The loaf chuckled. “Anything could happen to him.”
‘Is he threatening the heir?’ Agent Mayonnaise thought. He narrowed his eyes at the bread. “What do you mean?”
“Lemons go sour. And chip bags become heirs.”
The nerve of this guy. What a loaf! Agent Mayonnaise frowned. “Why do you care about him?”
“We don’t. But the fridge has lots of space. We could use it.”
“He’s gonna protect our rule of law.”
“So what? We don’t need laws. We’re food! And inside our cabinet, there are no rules,” the loaf whispered, narrowing his eyes. “Larry will die. And we’re taking that fridge,” he added with a low growl.
Agent Mayonnaise jerked himself away as the human picked up the bread bag, spun it around, and tied it with a twist-tie. Ambling back to the cupboard, the person threw the loaf inside and pushed the door shut. Before it closed, loud whispers within cried, “Fight! Fight!”
What the hell’s going on in there?
And the insurance policy? On the right side of the fridge, a slip of paper dangled from a magnet. Agent Mayonnaise slowly shimmied himself toward the document but stopped as two humans approached.
“Let’s clean your kitchen tomorrow,” the woman said.
His ears perked up.
“Mom, no.”
“When did you last clean this kitchen?”
“A couple days ago.”
“This fridge is a mess.” The woman removed the magnets from the refrigerator and placed the insurance policy on the counter, next to the agent.
‘I can snatch the document!’ the Agent thought. With careful precision, he lifted the right side of his bottom and placed it over part of the slip.
“Hmm,” the woman said, examining the inside of the fridge. She shook her head. “Let’s clean out everything. Start fresh.”
‘Holy Moley!’ They wanted a clean sweep. A hand brought Agent Mayonnaise back to his spot in the refrigerator. When the woman shut the door, he repeated to himself what he’d heard.
***
“Oh my God, we’re gonna die!” Agent Hot Sauce shouted.
“Calm down,” Agent Ketchup whispered. “You’ll scare everyone.”
“Are they cleaning us?” The heir asked, his voice rising. “I gotta get to the corner, right now!”
“Don’t worry, Larry. We’ll help you,” Agent Ketchup said, then turned her voice to a whisper. “Agent Mayonnaise, they’re cleaning house tomorrow?”
He nodded.
“That’s bad.” Agent Ketchup whistled, getting everyone’s attention. “Tomorrow’s cleanup day. Could be a clean sweep. But if we follow procedure, the heir will be protected in the corner. Council of Eggs, what say you?”
After murmurs from the carton, the head egg cleared his throat. “Commence safety measures ensuring the heir’s survival.”
“Meaning what?” Agent Mayonnaise asked.
Agent Ketchup shrugged. “Everyone’ll push Larry into the corner and hide him.”
As the food on the top shelf helped the heir, Agent Mayonnaise lifted part his bottom, showing the life insurance policy to Agent Ketchup.
“Holy Tomato,” she whispered. “You got it.”
He nodded.
She pulled it out and read it. “Here’s the cheese sticks. And the soda.”
He studied it. Something seemed off. “This isn’t a life insurance policy. Could be a receipt.”
“Explain.”
“It’s the same thing the cashier gave the human when he purchased me.”
She pointed to the bottom. “That word says policy.”
“But before, it says, ‘return,’ not ‘insurance.’ And the words ‘grocery store’ are at the top. And there’s nothing about Larry or his death.”
Shaking her lid, she examined the rest of the paper. “You’re right. It’s a receipt.” She shot him a look. “And a trick.”
“Who’s seen this?”
“Larry, the chip bag, and a box of crackers named Nabisco.”
“From the bread cabinet?”
She nodded. “Nabisco said he was a lawyer.”
“Chips and crackers come from factories, so they can read. But Larry can’t—”
“Because he’s produce.” Sighing, she returned the receipt to Agent Mayonnaise. “First thing’s first: the cleaning. They’ll take us out.” She cleared her throat and said loudly, “Plan for emergency garbage exfiltration.”
“What’s that?” he asked, removing his lid and placing the receipt inside himself.
“Jumping into the trash to save Larry.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Didn’t you learn it in training?”
“I only saw a video.”
“Try to remember what you watched,” she said. “You’ll need it tomorrow.”
***
On the kitchen counter, Agent Mayonnaise stood alongside Agent Ketchup. His eyes glared at the opened fridge door, his pulse beating like a madman. They better not throw out Larry. He’s all they had.
“Why’s all this food in back?” the woman asked. “And why’s a lemon in the corner?”
“Mom, don’t empty that whole thing.”
She pulled out the heir, barely visible in her hand. “How old is this lemon?” After taking a whiff of Larry, she wrinkled her mouth.
With wide eyes, Agent Mayonnaise witnessed her tossing Larry into the garbage between the spaghetti and a large top of a yogurt container.
‘How dare she throw him out!’
Agent Mayonnaise began garbage exfiltration protocol, twisting his bottom. First, he’d make it to the edge of the counter, next into the trash. After—
“Don’t let the humans see you,” Agent Ketchup warned.
With a nod, Agent Mayonnaise steadily ambled to the edge, inching his way past a butter stick, half a candy bar, and moldy lettuce. Above the can, he waited with nerves on fire until nobody was looking. Then he’d fall into the garbage and get Larry.
“Fine,” the man said, trudging to the trash can. He moved his arm across the counter, pushing everyone on the edge into the garbage, including Agent Mayonnaise.
He held his breath, became airborne, and landed like a rock onto the soft bed of pasta next to the heir.
Larry stared straight ahead as he rolled back and forth. “I don’t wanna die,” he whimpered between tears.
“Relax,” Agent Mayonnaise said, feeling confident. “I’ll get you out.”
“How?”
“Roll onto that plastic yogurt top. It looks bouncy.”
Larry complied. On the lid, he managed a few jounces. “It’s springy.”
“Good. Jump from this lid to inside the fridge.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Try it.”
“Fine.” He rolled back and forth, trying to attain enough force to jump. But he only sank lower into the top.
“Agent Mayonnaise, get on the lid with the heir.”
He looked up. Agent Ketchup stood at the edge, about to jump. “I’ll fall onto the top, and the bounce should send you flying into the fridge.”
“What about you?” he asked.
“I’m old and belong in the garbage,” she said.
He ambled onto the lid, and she counted to three. After jumping into the air, she fell with a thud onto the top. The bounce sent Agent Mayonnaise and Larry out of the can. While the former landed on the bottom shelf in the fridge, the latter smacked the frame and hit the ground. Agent Mayonnaise hurried to the darkness of the back corner.
“Why’s this lemon on the floor?” The woman asked, closing the door to the refrigerator. “I thought —”
Agent Mayonnaise hung his head and shivered in the cold. He couldn’t believe it. Larry should’ve been in the fridge. Instead, he’d die among the rotting food. How could this have happened?
‘I’ve failed,’ he thought.
The darkness and chill kept Agent Mayonnaise company as he clung to the shadow of the corner. He’d only known the others for three days. But he crept to the door and wished to take one last look at them. The humans might’ve thrown everyone out, but it felt like he was the one discarded and left for dead.
***
With a jolt of the door, the bright light came alive that night. The loaf of bread and snack-size chip bag opened the door and snuck inside.
“What a great fighting area,” the loaf said.
“The top shelf’s good for training,” the bag added.
“Not so fast.” Agent Mayonnaise sauntered out from the corner.
The loaf jerked his head back. “Didn’t they throw you out?”
“I returned,” the agent said, maneuvering his bottom to approach them.
“Whatever. This place’s ours based on the life insurance.”
“That’s no contract. It’s receipt from a supermarket.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“I can. I have it.”
“Give it here,” the bread said, inching his way to the agent.
“Nope. It’s mine.”
The loaf shrugged. “Whatever. Food’ll believe anything you say if you sound convincing enough. Besides, half the stuff in here’s gonna be produce. They can’t read.”
“This territory isn’t yours.”
“Fight me for it.”
Agent Mayonnaise stood tall. “Fine.”
“It’ll be two against one.”
“Until I win.”
The bread and the chip bag growled, and Agent Mayonnaise’s heart began beating the loud thumps of battle. The time for war had come.
***
The following day, Agent Mayonnaise shook his lid and opened his eyes. The bags of squished bread and flattened chips lay on either side of him. The fight lasted hours, but the agent managed victory.
The sounds of crinkles and thuds outside the fridge promised more companions. A human delivered the new items inside. Butter sticks and a carton of milk on the door. One brick of cheese on a shelf. Raw chicken in the meat compartment. Another Council of Eggs at the bottom. A plastic bag of luncheon meat. And a bottle of ketchup.
What to say about the bread and chips? How could Agent Mayonnaise justify their deaths?
He waited for darkness. Then he ambled out of the corner and addressed the new food. “Welcome. I’m Agent Mayonnaise, the sole survivor of yesterday’s clean sweep. They threw out our heir. The loaf and the chips died helping us.” He eyed the others.
Compassionate frowns suggested his lie worked. The bread was right. Food’ll believe anything if you’re convincing enough.
“Only you survived?” the milk carton asked.
Agent Mayonnaise nodded.
“You’re the heir,” a stick of butter said.
He scoffed. “Nah. I’m just a condiment.”
“You’re the only veteran,” the milk said.
“I don’t think—”
“What’s your sell-by date?”
“October fifteenth, two-thousand twenty-four.”
“You’ll last a long time.”
The stick of butter cleared her throat. “All in favor of Agent Mayonnaise becoming heir to the fridge, say ‘aye’.”
“AYE,” they said.
Everyone cheered. His subjects. Maybe he couldn’t save Larry. But the agent, now the heir, saved the fridge.
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