Clearing Out The Freezer

Clearing Out The Freezer

Last week I decided to defrost the freezer

Cause the door wouldn’t close any more

The ice had continued to build up

And icicles were covering the floor

It’s a ritual that we all have to endure

One that fills us with justified fears

But you’ve got to do it pretty regular

Well – let’s say at least once every five years

I disconnected the power – a simple first step

And left it to get itself started over-night

But when I woke up next morning

The shelves were still jammed solid alright

I decided it needed some help to get going

And set about it with a big hair-drier

This’ll soon melt the ice, I thought

This’ll get it off to a flier

But nothing seemed to do much good

The perma-frost was still inches thick

So I started hacking it with various tools

A knife, a saw, a hatchet and a bloody big stick

It was very slow going through the pack-ice

Several crevasses I had to unpick

I was soon surrounded by icebergs

And felt like Scott of the Antarctic

Finally the ice came away in lumps and in cubes

But the knife-edge slipped onto my wrist

There was torn flesh and rivers of blood -

Well I’m sure that you get the gist

Slowly the great melt had set in

The water flowed in huge floods

I wrenched out the top drawer

And at last I could get to my goods

The kitchen was awash with the deluge

Buckets and mops were in demand

The freezer floated slowly around

As if it was looking for the nearest dry land

Gradually I gained access to the interior

To the shelves and the mysterious drawers

To the frozen packages held therein

And I rushed to discover them without pause

  

Well, it was like opening a treasure chest

Or going on a magical mystery tour

To dig out the long-lost containers

And wonder what any of them were for

The labels had all faded or melted away

So no clues as to what was therein

No idea when they’d been squirreled away

It was hard to know where to begin.

It’s amazing how frozen food all looks the same

When it’s covered in crystals of ice

One lot of gloop looks like another

Was it something disgusting or nice?

Did I really freeze two spoonfuls of fried rice?

Are these pork sausages or somebody’s fingers?

There’s curry stains on the side of the boxes

It’s yellow and the smell of it lingers.

It was when I got down to the bottom

When I got past the things that were mere filler

That I began to have some tiny regrets

About my previous life as a serial killer

The hands, the feet and the arms

Were well wrapped up as a disguise

Was that somebody’s nose and their ears?

Was that a skull with still-frozen eyes?

A leg and piece of somebody’s back

A few ribs, a couple of kidneys and a liver

I only barely remember cutting the guy up

The blood must have flowed like a river

Still, I can’t be bothering with that now

There’s no way of getting around it

I’ll just do what everyone else does

And stuff it all back in where I found it!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020