Son of A Bitch, He Beat Me...

It's been so damn cold outside lately...

I went outside in the garage to grab a soda tonight. I went into the fridge and noticed that about 4 cans of pop had exploded in the bottom drawer, leaving an Icee like, sticky mess. I. being the good son, decided to clean the drawer out for my dad. I knew he'd come home and bitch about having to clean it, so I beat him to it. Besides, this buys me a week or so of getting out of household shit like
"Dayve, can you take out the garbage?"
"I can't, I'm in the middle of something. Besides, remember a few days ago when I cleaned out the fridge so you didn't have to?"

or
"You're Mom needs you to help her with the groceries, get up and go help her."
"I can't, my wrist hurts from scrubbing out the soda from the drawer. I'm on some pretty heavy painkillers over here."

So I'm cleaning out the drawer, and it's fucking awful. I'm in the freezing cold garage with a hot rag, scraping the sides of this goddamn refrigerator for 10 minutes. I can barely feel my nose and my ears, and I'm getting more annoyed and cold by the second.

My dad comes home and opens up the garage door, and sees me swearing to myself...

"What are you doing?
"Cleaning this damn fridge. Soda blew up all over the place. It's like the fucking killing fields for Pepsi in here."
"Oh. Can you move for a sec?"

I get up. My dad takes the drawer and removes it from the bottom of the fridge. He takes it in the house to the laundry room and turns on the hot water and washes it out in two minutes. All the while laughing at me.

And I just sit there with a stupid look on my face.

Fuck.