Hillmomba Smackdown: Mrs. HM vs FRIG II

Sorry, it's too late to get your tickets. The event has already concluded. In fact, it was not even on the calendar. Just a random battle for supremacy of the Mansion kitchen. Let the record show that FRIG II kicked Mrs. HM's butt.

It all started with my evening cup of ice. I needed my yellow bubba cup full. That's because I put half in my ever-weakening 44 oz Diet Coke, along with part of a 20 oz bottle...and use the rest for my water when I leave the lair for my OPC (Old People Chair). I fill Yellow Bubba every night before going back downstairs with supper.

Farmer H was in his La-Z-Boy, chowing down on some bratwursts I'd baked in the oven. He had chosen Ruffles and French Onion Dip as his side, while I had constructed myself a not-big salad. Now all I needed was that ice, and I could go eat my own supper solitarily like Farmer H.

FRIG II had other ideas.

There was a clog in the ice dispenser. You know. When that round thingy grinds the blockage, and you get shaved ice. I didn't WANT shaved ice. I needed my ice in solid, crescent-shaped cubes, to hold up against hot soda and lukewarm water. So I moved Yellow Bubba way from the lever. Set him down on the cutting block. I opened FRIG II's freezer door, and smacked the ice receptacle on the bottom. That saucy little imp WOULD give me some cubes, by cracky!

But no. He wouldn't. He spewed out a couple of cubes onto the floor, and continued grinding. I tried to pull out the whole ice tray, but it was stuck on the metal thingy in the back, the part that turns the spiral thingy to move the ice forward. I yanked and yanked, with more and more cubes hitting the floor. Funny how they couldn't come out into my cup, but could fling themselves willy-nilly to the linoleum.

I set the whole ice tray on the cutting block, and set to chipping away at ice buildup along the inside. I'd just done that less than a week ago. Shouldn't have needed to do it now. Oh, and while doing so, that ice tray started emitting cubes from the front, and also from the back. Nothing was moving in there, save my butter-knife chopper. It was like FRIG II's ice tray had a case of Montezuma's revenge, and was losing his insides from both ends.

By the time I was done, and wrestling with FRIG II's freezer door to fit that ice tray back in on its metal runners while the door was slamming on my shoulder...there were 15 pieces of ice on the floor. Which I had to BEND OVER and pick up! The problem with bending over is that both knees make grindy noises. And hurt.

As soon as I'd tossed the last of the floor ice cubes into the sink, Farmer H walked into the kitchen. I KNOW he'd heard me rassen-frassen during the debacle. Yet he hadn't come to help. Hard to believe, I know...

It was as if he was the referee, coming it to hold FRIG II's lever high, pronouncing him the winner.