Smoothie Massacre

I was watching my friend Julie’s house for the weekend. 

Her house is immaculate, everything is sparkling, and like Monica in Friends, there are no “crummies” in her kitchen.

This is why I was a little nervous when I decided to make a blueberry-banana-strawberry smoothie. It was a risky move, considering all the ingredients, but fortunately, I didn’t spill a drop.

When I finished, I poured the remaining smoothie into another cup for Steve, and placed it in the fridge.

Later, when I opened the refrigerator to get some water, I noticed that the cup was precariously close to the edge, which is a huge pet peeve of mine.

Sometimes friends will put their drinks on the edge of a table, when the middle of the table is wide open, and I think, Are you insane?! 

I have no choice but to move their drinks, which is what I did with Steve’s cup.

Ever so carefully, I slid his drink to a safer spot, and breathed a sigh of relief.

But as I pulled my hand back, my silly sausage fingers bumped the cup and the next thing I knew, the cup started to tip… I felt like I was in a Bounty commercial, where the drink spills in slow motion and the guilty party screams, “N-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O!”

“N-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O!” I bellowed, like the lady on TV.

But unlike the Bounty commercial, I didn’t have the “quicker-picker-upper” ready to go, and I could only watch in horror as the smoothie river cascaded over the shelf, like a crimson waterfall.

I quickly turned the cup rightside up but the damage had been done.

I ran across the kitchen, grabbed a mass of paper towels (Dear God, let them be Bounty!), and raced back to the fridge.

I tried to stop it, but like lava, it had formed channels.

Some of these channels dripped over the side, seeping dangerously close to the produce bins. Others expanded outward, threatening to wipe out entire blocks of cheese.

Smoothie carnage was everywhere.

I smothered it with paper towels, trying my best to contain this liquid beast, but I was no match.

It was a bloodbath.

But tastier, and filled with Vitamin C. 

“N-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O!” I moaned again in agony.

(Should I audition for a Bounty commercial?)

Finally, after A LOT of paper towels, I managed to sop up the mess, and restore the refrigerator to its pristine condition.

But just as I was about to congratulate myself on a job well done, something caught my eye.

Splattered beneath the bottom tray were faint droplets of smoothie, which unless I removed the bottom tray (Do I look like a refrigerator repairman?), were impossible to reach.

Regardless, I spent another gazillion hours, crouched down, and sliding paper towels underneath the tray, trying unsuccessfully to remove every last remnant of the smoothie massacre.

And that’s when it dawned on me…

I would make a horrible murderer.

First, of all, I have no desire to kill anyone.

But more importantly, the work it entails to clean up the mess is way beyond my skill set.

Seriously, who has the time?

Or the energy?

Or the paper towels?

I sat down on the chair, defeated.

Five minutes later, Steve walked in and I pointed to the refrigerator.

“There’s smoothie underneath the …”

But he had already removed the bottom tray, and was spraying 409 into all the crevices, 

wiping away every last shred of evidence.

Five minutes later, he smiled and pointed to the sparkling refrigerator.

“Wow!” I said, shaking my head in amazement.

How he managed to meticulously remove all traces of the crime was extremely impressive.

And a little chilling.

However, it’s nice to know, should I ever consider murder, I’ve already got somebody to do my dirty work.