Food Fight by ff_b

In the middle of the night, Roger's dog began whining and pawing at the back door to be left out, so as he had done innumerable times before, Roger shuffled sleepily to the portal and left his dog out to answer a call of nature. On his way back through the kitchen, Roger paused to consider his well-stocked kitchen, and the idea of a midnight snack appealed to him. The aggravating Hillshire Farms commercial on television played in his head again and again...

"I love lunch meat, yes I do, I love lunch meat, 'how 'bout you?"

Yes, a snack, thought Roger, that's the ticket! Might as well get a sandwich together before he let his dog back in. He opened the refrigerator door, the light from it penetrating the darkened kitchen. There was a rattle from the freezer compartment.

"Hmm," mused Roger, "must have jarred something loose up there." He continued to gather ingredients for his sandwich. There was another rattle, and then the sound of something shifting in the freezer compartment. Something rather heavy, from the sound of it.

"Hello, what's this?," muttered Roger as he pulled open the handle on the freezer compartment, his head level with the contents of it. Roger peered inside, squinting in the dim light.

A 20-pound frozen Butterball turkey shot out of the freezer like a cannonball, striking Roger squarely in the forehead and knocking him to the floor. Dazed, Roger came to his senses on the linoleum. It was then that frozen roasts and other large pieces of meat came hurtling out of the freezer, hard as rocks and catching Roger with unerring accuracy on the nose and in the groin. Blood ran down his face and throat from his shattered nose; he doubled up in agony from the attack upon his testicles.

"Uhhh," groaned Roger, in serious pain and struggling to clear his mind and understand what exactly was going on. It was then that the chicken nuggets and the Mrs. Paul's frozen fish strips attacked, flying into Roger's gaping mouth and upper throat and together with his own blood making breathing difficult. His eyes widened with fear as a large coil of ring bologna wiggled itself out of the refrigerator section and over to Roger, wrapped itself around his neck, and began to constrict.

The flow of oxygen to his brain now restricted, dark motes began to dance before Roger's eyes. In his last moments of consciousness, he saw his own dog return through a door somehow opened by sausage links forming a chain around the knob and exerting downwards tension on it. A dog may be man's best friend, but they are first and foremost animals...and it was no longer friendly when the dog started up a meat slicer on the counter by standing on his hind legs and tapping the switch with his paw...he always was such a smart dog!

Roger lost his consciousness then, soon to be followed by his bodily integrity. Payback time is hell, you see, and eating too much meat simply isn't good for you, and has been known to shorten your life...