Is Your Refrigerator Running

"Hello, this is...um...Joe of Joe's Refrigerators and Grills."

"Who?"

"Yes, exactly, I have on record that you purchased a fridge from us--shut up, Kyle--just a month ago, and I've noticed some strange activity on it."

"I'm sorry, you track fridge activity?"

"Yes, well you see, that's one of our company's policies."

"You know that's a huge violation of privacy, right?"

"Well, company policy ma'am, there's nothing I can do about it."

"First of all, I'm not a ma'am, and second of all, didn't you say you were 'Joe of Joe's Refrigerators and Grills'?"

"Unfortunate coincidence. I'm Joe Jackson Jr., my father Joe Jackson Sr., runs the company, and you know how parents are, real...uh--what Kyle? What the fuck does that mean--cucks these days. Especially when they get older."

"I'm sorry?"

"Company policy is all."

"Uh. Okay. Um, what about my fridge activity Joe Jackson Jr.?"

"Well, it seems a little strange. It's going very quickly, and we're just worried here at--what did I call it?--Joe's Refrigerators and Grills that you may have been hacked."

"I'm sorry, my fridge is hacked?"

"Possibly ma'--shit no--sir."

"That's a load of bull--"

From an entirely different voice, suddenly boyish and ridiculously giggly, "Is your refrigerator running!?"

"Wha--"

"You better go catch it."

Click.

From the other side of the house, a heavy sound, like a thud of a large, heavy box falling. Then, appearing from the kitchen of the man's house, a tall, white, boxy figure with two morbidly human legs. The man drops his phone so it hangs uselessly from the wall. The figure approaches him, gaining speed with every step. Then, in a deep baritone, akin to the howling depths of hell,

"Catch me if you can. Bitch."