Meat my Refrigerator.

Well this is another exciting story. If you are not bored enough when you finish reading this, please go to your television, if you’re in Portugal, and put channel 4 on.
A couple of weeks ago, I was cleaning the kitchen, to replace the old fridge, meanwhile the old one thru himself out of the window, automatically, when he saw the brand-new white Zanussi coming in the kitchen.
Our old refrigerator was so bad, that the ice which used to live in it had moved into my neighbour’s refrigerator. And the milk, which used to be fresh, well we started using it as vinegar. And the door was so rusty that one day it was nominated for a decoration award. When we told the jury it was rust, we were disqualified… I still don’t know why.
I think this was the refrigerator’s final breakdown, he started crying so much, we had to use an umbrella and rubber boots each time we wanted to enter the kitchen so we avoid entering it. Trying to light up a match with one hand and an umbrella in your other hand, can be a difficult task. By the way, Mrs Smith if you’re reading this, I repeat: "That flaming umbrella which fell down on your car, it wasn’t mine." And so I guess this is the reason why I started to barbecue a lot.
One day, I heard the doorbell ring, it was my downstairs neighbour, he came complaining that there was water coming from upstairs. I told him the whole situation about the award, and my neighbour gave me a hug and pulled me downstairs to his kitchen and showed me the most cutest refrigerator I had seen in whole my life, it was painted in pink and full of memo’s, there where memo’s from brands of chocolate, from cartoon’s, yellow papers with shoppinglists and a drawing made by a child. Extraordinarily the drawing was someone, that looked much like my neighbour completely wet and he was yelling with his upstairs neighbour… If my neighbour really ever yelled at me since the water came in his kitchen, I don’t know, I haven’t heard a thing, since I dedicated my self to hamburgers and the barbecue on my balcony. The smell of meat from my balcony was so intense, that when I finnaly decided to eat at the vegetarian restaurant across the street, it closed down. My cat became so sick of the smell of meat every day, that he became friends with the goldfish and Tweety. I tried eating pizza, but the delivery guy, who unfortunately was a vegetarian, refused to deliver anything to me. I don’t even think about Chinese food, the last time I ate with sticks, I spent 4 hours in a hospital without smelling a thing.
Anyway, I was telling about the refrigerator from my neighbour…
This story is to be continued…or not. (dedicated to biga ;), this last two words: or not-ou não).