Elaine came home from work exhausted. She walked into the kitchen, dropped her pocketbook on the table, and went to the fridge to grab a beer. Suddenly she froze. “Clyde,” she screamed, “where’s the goddam refrigerator?”
“I hauled that piece of crap out of here and dumped it in the ravine behind the house,” he called out from the living room.
“What on earth possessed you to do that?” Elaine, bewildered, asked.
“It wasn’t keeping my beer cold enough,” he complained.
“Why didn’t you just call the place we bought it?” she asked. “It was still under warranty, you idiot!”
Written for the Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.