The Dangerous Kitchen

My refrigerator is haunted.
This morning when I opened the door it threw an egg at me. I don't know how it even got out of the carton, let alone fly through the air at me.
I had to clean it up off the floor.
The second time I opened the door, all of the condiments on the top shelf in the door jumped out at me. Nothing broke but I had to pick them all up from the floor too.
The third time I opened the door, all of the condiments from the bottom shelf in the door did the suicide jump.
What the hell is going on here?
Do I need an exorcist?
Maybe a human sacrifice.
What does it want?
I know what it doesn't want. It doesn't want that dried up tuna sandwich in the back corner, or those shriveled up lime wedges leftover from Cinco de Mayo. And I think I've established that it doesn't want my variety of hot sauces and mustards. But, now that I think about it, every week I stock it up with quality beer and that always seems to disappear! So, since today is Friday, maybe it's a little anxious for the weekly offering. I don't know.
What I do know for sure is this. I was so eager to report this event as it was happening that while preparing my breakfast simultaneously, I burnt my bacon!
Black.
Damn.
To hell with the fridge, I gotta finish breakfast. Bring on the hot sauce!
First breakfast, then I shall do battle with the Ice Box from Hell!
Never a dull moment.
Boogie Chillin'...on Planet Dandy.