copyright © 1998
I absentmindedly begin to kick at the door, watching it swing out on its hinge, and, as Newton
would predict, swinging back with an equal and opposite force, only to have me kick it out
again.
(Lights go down to haff and up to full, then repeat, simulating door swinging)
Suddenly, I have my answer. My foot meets the door, and finds more resistance that it should. I
kick again and again, with both feet now, bracing myself against the opposite side, but it's no use.
I'm stuck.
I stop struggling, panting in the dark, surveying my new home. It's no so bad, I try to remind
myself, but my words sound hollow now, the smooth clean interiors just cold and character-less
now. How could I be so foolish to give up so much control? And because the damn thing isn't
plugged in, I can't even discover if the light goes out or not. Is this how food feels? Left alone in
the dark to slowly rot away?
But I will not go quietly, like some forgotten sandwich or some half-eaten luncheon meat! I'm
gonna make noise, act up, rock the world, lash out, be unreasonable. Only then will someone
realize that I'm trapped and set me free... (Lights up, then fast Blackout.)
Performed again at the Best of No Shame on December 11, 1998.
"THE REFRIGERATOR PIECE" IS COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL AND MAY NOT BE
DOWNLOADED, TRANSMITTED, PRINTED OR PERFORMED WITHOUT THE
EXPRESS PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR
Okay, so I'm playing in the refrigerator again. I know I'm not supposed to. It's just so irresistible.
For those of you who don't know, playing in empty, abandoned refrigerators is considered very
unsafe, especially this kind, with the single big handle/latch on the outside. Once shut, it's
impossible to open from within--only a kind passerby can set you free. I know this, of course-I
went to school, even paid attention, but you have to admit this refrigerator is pretty cool. Smooth
white plastic meets cool clean metal to form a perfect interior, just enough space to stand if I
stoop a little. This isn't so bad, I tell myself, sitting on one of the salad crisper drawers. I could get
used to this. There is the odd, stale smell of old food, but somehow even this is comforting.
Knowing that something has been around for a while, that it has a history is reassuring-this fridge
has been here fbr a while, and it's not leaving any time soon. It's a nice, perfect little space, just
enough for me. Keeping me nicely closed it, not having to worry about the out side--a world easy
to understand, easy to comprehend. No surprises, no mysteries. Who wouldn't be content here? I
wonder out loud, pleased at the muffled echo that returns to me. This refrigerator is so
cool.
I get excited at the door blocks out steadily more and more of the sunlight, knowing that the
darker it gets, the closer to trapped I am. I should be frightened, I know. This is really very
foolish, but I can't help myself I even start to play a little game with the door, waiting until the last
second to move my foot, then laughing in triumph as it swings out again. (Lights go up and
down faster.) Giddy, I wonder how long I can keep this up. Surely, this must come to an end,
surely I can't keep this up fbrever. (Blackout, then up just a little so I can read.)
"The Refrigerator Piece" debuted October 23, 1998.