Week 116, The rubbish chill

Down these mean streets a fridge must go that is not itself mean.

This fridge clearly is tarnished, and given that it has fallen down into a position of submission it is also afraid.

What is the hidden truth behind this juxtaposition of objects, a truth which may remain perpetually hidden, a mystery.

Or perhaps it would be as easy to just nip into Scotts Pantry and ask.

...

Apparently the fridge is broken.

For official/internal use only:
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