by Ken Tuccio

I have a horrible habit, I never clean out my fridge.

Most people might see this as a disgusting trait, and I’d be hard pressed to disagree with them. It’s not something I set out to do, I’m not purposely ignoring the filth in my fridge as a way to stick it to any sort of man; it’s simply a side effect of my procrastination and laziness.

Normally my lack of cleaning out the fridge doesn’t bother me, but then I find something like this and am bothered immensely …

I came across this mysterious Tupperware container yesterday afternoon. The bothersome aspect of the situation is that I don’t know what this is, and I don’t know where I got it.

Normally the leftover food that makes its home in my fridge is discernible. I can look at a box of leftover pizza and remember that it’s from a trip to the Italian joint down the street from my house a few weeks ago. I can open up a box of KFC, see a few Crispy Strips, and know full well that those were from my fast food excursion last Thursday. Yet the origins of this Tupperware container remains a mystery.

First off, I don’t cook. Ever.

This is obviously homemade, and since the closest I get to homemade cooking is microwaving a container of Easy Mac, I can’t in good conscience take credit for the creation of this feast.

Secondly, this seems to have once been a pasta dish, and I never eat pasta.

I’m one of the only Italians on the planet who isn’t a huge pasta fan, a fact that drives my Grandmother crazy. I never order it in restaurants, and I know full well that I would never cook it up.

Thus, the mystery remains, where did this mysterious tub of food come from?

I asked my roommate if this was his, and he denied ownership of it. I’m not sure if that’s because it really isn’t his food, or because he’s afraid it may come to life and attack him in his sleep. Regardless, I have to cross him off the list of possible cuprits.

The thought ran through my head that someone may have snuck in my apartment and planted this container here weeks ago. Maybe this is poison pasta, and someone had a plan to kill me during one of my 3am microwave extravaganzas.

I had to eliminate this possibility though, because as much as I like to think I’m important enough to be assassinated, I don’t think anyone is plotting to kill me via a lethal dish of pasta and peppers.

Regardless of the origins of this dish, the fact remains that this disgusting hunk of “food” is still in my possession.

You would think that this container would be giving off a horrible odor, but amazingly it’s not. The smell from this container is actually rather pleasant, which I find odd. It sort of smells like the perfume they spray around the women’s section at JCPenney.

I’m not sure if that’s a knock to the perfume at JCPenney, or a compliment to this dish of pasta; whatever the case may be, I ask that you not question me as to why I’m aware of the perfume spraying habits in the women’s section at JCPenney.

At the end of the day, this container of pasta has one fate, a terrible fate at that; it’s going to become friends with my garbage.

I somewhat feel bad throwing this mysterious Tupperware container away. I’ll never know the origins of it, I’ll never know what it tasted like, and I’ll never know if it was some sinister chef’s plot to eliminate me from the planet. Those are questions that will haunt me for the rest of my life, or at the very least, the next few minutes.

Whatever the case my be, I bid farewell to this mysterious container of pasta …

I hope it makes some raccoons, skunks, and ants very happy.

Be aware that if you ever show up in my refrigerator again, I’ll be forced to call the police; because, quite frankly, that would freak me out.