All Quiet on the Westinghouse Front

For a few days I was plagued by a periodic beep in the kitchen area.  It was driving me mad.

Madder.

The voices were suggesting that if it did not stop I should burn the house down.

After three days of beeps every fifteen minutes or so, it was a tempting proposition.

At first I thought someone had planted one of those annoying intermittent beepatrons that are available from ThinkGeek for a modest sum.  The only suspect of such a heinous act assured me not.  He had lost his.  He sounded genuine but could I believe him?

After positioning myself at various locations around the room and patiently waiting for the next beep,  by triangulation I thought I had determined the source.  I was sure it was coming from inside the “smart” refrigerator.  Or from somewhere very near it.

I searched the refrigerator inside and out and at first found nothing untoward.

Then a deeper, more exhaustive probe at last revealed a clue.

A pack of Xmas mince pies had slipped out the back of the dairy compartment. The air circulation from the freezer to the refrigeration compartment was blocked.  The vent had iced up.  The poor machine was trying to tell me it could not breathe.   Pies removed.  One eaten. Vent cleared of ice.  A tense wait for the next beep.  Another mince pie eaten.  The tension was palpable now.  The minutes ticked by.   Yet another mince pie.  Then one more. The pies were all gone now. Only the foil dishes and the cardboard outer with its clear window gave evidence they ever existed.  The voices were hushed.  Expectant.

Suddenly, nothing happened.

Sorted.

I told the fridge that if it could beep, it could also give some indication of what the problem was on its display panel.  It remained silent.  It had nothing further to say.

The voices laughed and said they had known what the problem was all along.  They just wanted to see if I would actually burn down the house.

If I could figure out how to leave them inside, I would.

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Author: Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.

3 thoughts on “All Quiet on the Westinghouse Front”

  1. Mate, you are a bright gem in my life with your wordcraft. I shared your story with the two others I work with who are of a similar ilk. They were also enchanted. Love your work!
    Dave

    Liked by 1 person

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