Close Encounter

Janice was sitting at the kitchen counter eating a grape Pop-Tart when the fridge began to shake. A voice from inside kept repeating: “Janice. In here. In here.” She threw open the door and the room was flooded with a heavenly luminescence. She knew immediately—this was a close encounter of the kitchen kind, and it was her job to connect with the source. She ripped shelves and drawers from the fridge with abandon, grunting with the unfamiliar effort of pursuing the unknown. She was frantic, expecting on one hand to be sucked into an icy arctic vortex, worrying on the other that she’d spill the maple syrup. Then, suddenly, as quickly as it appeared, the light was gone, leaving Janice spent and dejected in the dim glow of the 25-watt refrigerator bulb. Sighing, she climbed down to the floor and returned to her Pop-Tart. “Wow.” she muttered. “That’s enough excitement for one day.” And her thoughts turned to the laundry waiting to be hung out and to the fish sticks Ernie had ordered for dinner.