Nathaniel Monroe Gets Crushed by His Fridge

It was a normal Monday morning as Nathaniel Monroe sauntered into the kitchen in his cotton robe.  Bacon sizzled on the stove,  a pot of freshly brewed coffee sat waiting for him on the counter, and the classifieds were neatly folded on the table.  Everything was as it should have been for him as entered the kitchen followed by his black cat, Whiskers.  After pouring himself a cup of coffee he lumbered up to the large stainless-steel fridge in search of his morning yogurt.  A note from his wife was stuck to the door.  Nathaniel stood in his robe and took a sip from his mug, staring at the note for a few seconds before picking it up.

Nate, I’ve left the classifieds on the table and highlighted jobs of interest for you.  Please look them over and make some calls.  And don’t forget to talk to someone about the floor.  The mold on the wood is getting worse. Love, Katie.  P.S.  Out of yogurt.  I’ll run to the store on my way home...unless you can find the time today to go yourself...
That last part was underlined in red at the bottom of the page.  

Perturbed, Nathaniel yanked on the handle and heard a loud crack.  He looked down, startled, to see the wood flooring beneath him cave in.  His glass mug shattered on the floor as he lost his balance.  The fridge lurched forward and slowly fell.  

“Oh god,” He said as he stumbled backwards, stepping on shards of the broken mug.  Whiskers hissed and ran from the room.  The fridge fell towards him as he placed both hands against the front of the door attempting to stop it.  A puddle of coffee and blood formed around his feet.  He slipped and landed on his back.  His head hit the floor with a dull thud and his kitchen flashed bright white.  Jars and tupperware banged around inside.  In slow motion, he watched as the fridge fell on top of him, crushing his legs and pinning him to the ground.    The handle dug into his stomach making it difficult to breathe.   Blood smeared the floor around his head as he gasped for air.

Dazed and unable to move anything but his head and arms, Nathaniel lay In the middle of the kitchen staring up at his stove.  Somewhere above his head the bacon sizzled as the steel fridge crushed him from the chest down.  Placing his hands on the front of the fridge Nathaniel pushed hard trying to lift it off of him.  A sharp pain shot out from his sides as he cringed and grabbed at his ribs, letting the weight crush down on him again.

The smell of bacon filled the air as crackling from the stove grew louder.  Drops of milk and chocolate syrup trickled out of the door onto the floor beside his head.  Cautiously, Whiskers came back into the kitchen, her head low, examining the situation.  She walked up to the milk and drank it, her tongue lashing out in short, quick motions.  

“Whiskers, go, get help girl.  Do something,” Nathaniel waved at the cat as she continued to drink.  “Whiskers, help!”  He swiped at her head.  

Whiskers hissed and bit his index finger before running away.

“Goddamned cat.” Nathaniel pulled his hand back and saw a trickle of blood running down his hand.

Katie was allergic to cats but Nathaniel had insisted they get one over a dog.

“All dogs do is shit and eat,” He’d said, “cats are little trouble at all.  They hardly even notice you.  Trust me, a cat would be a better fit for this home than a dog.  I’m doing this for the both of us.”  But at that moment, being crushed by his fridge in the middle of his kitchen, Nathaniel wished nothing more than for Whiskers to magically transform into a golden Collie, the kind of dog he could tell to run for help.

Nathaniel dug into the pockets of his robe in search of his phone but came up with nothing.  His eyes scanned the room and found it perched on the counter next to the stove, just out of reach.  He extended his arms, desperately grasping for it but it was useless.  Sighing, he dropped his arms to the floor.  

The room grew warmer.  Tiny beads of sweat formed on his forehead.  A tiny sting on his arm alarmed him and he flung it wildly in the air.

“Ah, what the hell?”  He looked over to see a faint red winding line coming up from between the floor all the way to the syrup next to his head.  Nathaniel squinted his eyes and could see the syrup teaming with tiny red specks.  Hundreds of them.  Another sting, this time on his eyelid.  Then ten more up and down his arms and legs.  

A note from yesterday stuck out in his mind.

Nate, did you hear back about the job yet?  Please give them a call back.  Employers like to see applicants taking the initiative.  I’ll see you tonight, call me and let me know what you want for dinner.  Love, Katie.   P.S.  I saw ants on the cup of yogurt you left on the counter.  Run to the store and pick up some spray to take care of the things.  

Nathaniel shook his head furiously back and forth slapping his face.  His body ached from the stings but he couldn’t budge.  The fridge laid on top of him with no plans of leaving.

  Why had he bought such a large fridge in the first place?  Their old one was perfectly fine.  Sure, it was a little small, but it never got too full.  Except it kept freezing his beer.  Every day he’d open that fridge to find cans of beer that had frosted and burst.  

“Honey, do you really think it’s a good idea to buy a new refrigerator?  Especially at this cost?  You just lost your job.  I promise, we can get one later, maybe for Christmas.  But I really don’t think it’s wise to spend our money on one now,” Katie had said as they stood browsing the appliances at the store.

“Yes, in fact I do.  Why do you keep bringing up my job anyways?  I’ve heard enough about my goddamned job.  And anyways, do you know how much beer that old piece of shit has ruined?  The amount of money we’d save on beer alone is worth the purchase,” Nathaniel said just before waving down a sales associate.

“I don’t drink beer,” Katie said quietly.

“Yeah, well I’m sure it freezes your  wine coolers or whatever too.  I’m doing this for the both of us.  It’ll be good for the home.”

At the cash register Nathaniel’s credit card was declined.  He motioned to Katie’s purse.  “Give me the other one.  The gold one.”

Katie looked down holding her purse delicately in her hands.  “The gold one is for emergencies only Nate.”

Nathaniel swiped the purse without saying anything.  He dug around impatiently in search of the card carelessly throwing lipstick and receipts to the ground.  Eventually the entire bag was overturned as he spilled the remainder of its contents to the floor.  “Ahh, there it is,” He reached down, took the card, and threw the purse back to Katie.  She held it to her chest as she bent down to gather the rest of her belongings.

Nathaniel’s thoughts were interrupted by the terrifying yet delicious smell of something burning.   He looked up to see smoke rising from the stove.  He squirmed trying to free his body as the bacon sizzled loudly.  Again he pushed against the fridge.  Again his arms gave way as the fridge pressed harder against his chest.  He could no longer feel the stings from the ants.  They were still there, crawling up and down his body, but he was numbed from the pain.

Tempted by the smell of bacon, Whiskers walked back into the kitchen.  

“Fuck you cat,” he said.  Whiskers glanced over uncaring and then looked up at the stove.  She jumped onto the counter and pawed at the handle of the pan.  It inched away from the burner.

Nathaniel’s eyes widened, “Wait, good Whiskers.  Good cat.”  He calmed and chuckled.  “That dumbass cat might be good for something afterall.”

Soon, Whiskers had pawed the bacon off of the flame, however the pan continued to move.   Nathaniel could see first an inch of the smoking pan.  Then two inches.  Then three.  He could do nothing but look up in horror as the pan inched further and further over the edge.

“Whiskers no, stop.”  The pan teetered perilously above his head, bacon, grease, and all.  Whiskers’ tail swung back and forth over the side of the stove and Nathaniel regretted not feeding her this morning.  

With one last push of the handle Whiskers sent the pan falling to the floor.  Nathaniel shielded his face with his hands as it turned over mid-air.  Red-hot grease splashed across his hands and face.  It sizzled and smoked.  The pan hit the floor with a bang and sent pieces of bacon flying across the kitchen.   Nathaniel cried out in pain as his flesh bubbled.  His eyes burned and his head smoked.  

The kitchen went black as if the day had turned to night.  His eyes were open but he could see nothing.  Nathaniel blinked twice, hard, and tried to focus.  “My eyes, I’m blind!”  He screamed as he rubbed his face.  “I can’t see!  Whiskers you...fuck you Whiskers!”  Nathaniel slammed his fists on the floor and started to cry.  Tears fell from his grease-stricken eyes.  Between sobs he could hear Whiskers picking at the bacon.  This only made him feel worse.  

It had been six months since the last time Nathaniel had cried.  Outside of his office complex he stood holding a small cardboard box.  The words “Mr. Monroe. Belongings,” were scribbled along the side in permanent marker.  It was cold and the sky was gray as he placed the box on top of his car.  He fumbled in his pockets for his keys and dropped them on the ground.  His phone rang and he answered.

“What is it Katie?” He bent over to pick up his keys.

“I was thinking about dinner tonight.  I love that place with all the fish tanks.  They’re so beautiful with all of the colors.  The reds and yellows and blues.  Do you think maybe we could get a table next to the fish?  That way we can watch them while we wait for-”

“We’re not going to any fucking fish place.  We’re not going anywhere.”

There was a long pause followed by hushed sniffles.  “But, it’s my birthday.  I thought it would be fun to-”

“I said no,” Nathaniel’s voice cracked, “ We need to save money.  And besides, I read something about fish and mercury or whatever.  It would be good for the both of us to stay home.”

An even longer pause.  “Please, we don’t have to have fish,” she spoke quietly, “I bought this nice dress and these earrings I thought you’d like.  Nate, it’s my bir-”

“And why the hell are you spending our money on shit like that?”  He yelled and hung up the phone.  

Inside his car Nathaniel sat, his belongings occupying the passenger seat.  Thunder rang out as a drizzle of rain fell gently on the windshield.  A lump in his throat grew large.  He swallowed hard, turned the ignition, and headed home.  

Minutes passed, maybe half an hour, and the weight of the fridge was unbearable.  

“I’m going to die,” he whispered, “this is how I’m going to die.  No Job, hungry and alone.  I’m go-”  A door opened.  Someone had walked into the house.  High heels clicked in the distance.

“Katie, is that you?”  His pulse quickened.

The footsteps grew louder.  “Oh my god Nate!”  Katie’s voice rang out through the living room. “What happened?”  She ran into the kitchen and dropped something onto the floor.  

“I don’t know, this damned fridge.  Just help me get it off me.” 

Katie knelt down, her voice in his ear.  “Oh my god and your face Nate.  Jesus it’s all burnt.”  She brushed his hair through her fingers.

“I know, I can’t see.”

Katie stood up. The stove top clicked off.  “I’m so glad I forgot my phone in the bedroom.  I was halfway to work when I turned around.”

Nathaniel had never been happier to hear his wife’s voice in his life.  Hell, he’d even take her to the restaurant with all the fish once everything healed up.  “Okay, on the count of three I’m going to push.  You pull it on your side and I think we can get it.”

Silence followed except for the sound of papers rustling.  “Katie, where are you?  On the count of three okay?”

Her voice was further away.  “The classifieds are still here on the table.  You didn’t even open them.”

“What?”  Nathaniel said confused.  “Oh, right, I was going to read them just as soon as I ate.  Please Katie help me damnit.”

She sighed and walked back over to the fridge.  “Okay, sorry.”

“Alright, now on the count of three,”  Nathaniel placed his hands on the door and laughed.  “You know, it was probably my fault Katie.  I read your note, the one you taped to the fridge, and I was pretty pissed that we were out of yogurt.”

“What?”  Katie said with a tinge of agitation.

“Yeah,” He laughed again, “You know how I like my morning yogurt.  And then I thought about how I’d have to wait all day until you bought some on your way home.  I was so mad I think I pulled the door too hard.  You were right, that mold I guess had gotten pretty bad.  It split the wood flooring and down came the fridge.”  

Katie was silent.

Nathaniel continued, “Okay, so on the count of three you pull.  One.  Two.  Three.”  He pushed as hard as he could but the fridge didn’t budge.  “Katie, I know you’re weak but you really need to try here.”  He heard nothing.  “Katie?”  Still nothing.  Whiskers walked back in and licked the grease from his face.  She sat and purred and licked. “Fuck Whiskers get away!”  Nathaniel pushed her hard.  She hit against the wall with a thud and ran off.

He could hear Katie shuffling above him.  One shoe hit the ground.  Clap.  And then another.  Clap.  Katie grunted.  Her bare feet slapped against the countertop.

“What’s going on?”  His voice quieted.

 There was the sound of steel bending.  The weight of the fridge seemed to double and it became nearly impossible to breathe.  

“Katie,” it was hard to speak.  “What the hell are you doing?  Help me.”  It felt as if something else was pressing against him as well.

Somewhere high above him she spoke.  “You need to help yourself.”  

Nathaniel’s eyes bulged from his skull.  Tears streamed down his face as he slapped the sides of the fridge unable to breathe.  “Please.  No,”  He tried to speak but no sound escaped his lips.

Katie’s voice was strong with anger and fury,   “I’m doing this for the both of us.”

Something cracked in Nathaniel’s chest and he tasted blood on his lips. Tears stopped running down his face.  His arms fell to his side as the room grew cold. Yogurt and beer passed through his mind followed closely by death.