“There’s something going on at the back of that kitchen cupboard where you keep all the plastic bags,” he said before disappearing into a plume of purple smoke.
I didn’t think much of it at the time. But when I got home, I have to admit, I decided to delve a little deeper than usual into the cupboard under the sink.
Upon opening the door, a slew of environmentally friendlily stored plastic spilled out covering my feet.
(Tesco, Sainsbury’s, one from Boots… a crumpled advert for the most boring elements of High Street Britain).
I scooped a few more bags out on to the floor and was shocked to discover a miniature ghetto blaster, about the size of a match box hidden among the plastic. Unable to think what it meant, I used the tip of my little finger to depress the play button. A second later Vanilla Ice’s ‘Ice, Ice Baby’ came bursting out of the tiny speakers at an unbelievable volume.
As soon as the first lines of the song kicked in: ‘All right stop collaborate and listen, Ice is back… (etc),’ a strange rustling, scurrying sound could be heard coming from under the carrier bags still wedged in the cupboard.
Now even more confused, I placed the ghetto blaster on the floor and began clawing out handfuls of plastic bags, discarding them over my shoulders as I dug deeper and deeper into the cupboard. The scurrying noises didn’t go away, despite my frantic searching of the cupboard. They seemed to grow louder with every bag I removed.
Leaning further and further into the cupboard and with the scurrying sounds echoing in my brain as the tune reached its peak, I continued tearing away the plastic bags. But to no avail.
As the song ended, the scurrying stopped. And I found myself sweating and panting in an empty cupboard. All the plastic bags, hundreds probably, were scattered all across the kitchen. And I was none the wiser as to what had happened.
When I tried to climb out of the cupboard I found I could not move. I have been here ever since, trapped, staring out at my kitchen.
[Update]:
Someone closed the door last night when I fell asleep.
And rap music has been blaring out of the ghetto blaster all day.
The scurrying sounds, which I have decided must be being made by malevolent dancing mice, are driving me crazy.
I’m not sure I can take it much longer…
