The Little Coke Fridge That Could

Once upon a time, there was a little Coke fridge. It sat in the big
bookcase beside the big bad executive. The little Coke fridge was a
happy Coke fridge, because all it had to do all day was keep Coke cold,
and it liked that. The big bad executive wasn't really bad, you see, but
the chronicler deemed it prosaic ... I mean, it sounded good.

Every day, the office would open up, and the little Coke fridge would
sing:

Oh I'm as happy as can be,
Because he keeps the Coke in me,
I love to cool the Coke, you see,
And I don't ever take a rest.

Life went on for the little Coke fridge. Every day, the big bad
executive would take more Coke out of the giant 24-pack on the filing
cabinet, and every day he'd open the door of the little Coke fridge and
put more Coke in him. And the little Coke fridge loved it. "I am such a
lucky little Coke fridge," he would say, his motor purring with pride.

Then one day, the big bad executive came into the office and said,
"Little Coke fridge, I have a job for you. I know you can do it, because
you are a good little Coke fridge."

"Oh boy," said the little Coke fridge. "The big bad executive trust me!"

"I have six cans of Coke I need to keep cool all day," said the big bad
executive, "will you do this important task for me?"

"Oh my," said the little Coke Fridge. "I have never tried holding six
cans of Coke all day before. Yes, I will do it for you, you gluttonous
swine .. I mean, big bad executive, thank you for trusting me."

So the big glut ... I mean, bad executive filled the little Coke fridge
with six cans of Coke. The little Coke fridge looked through the little
window on its door at the big bad executive's computer screen, and saw
that it was 7:30. Nine hours to go. "I think I can, I think I can," said
the little Coke fridge, its shelves heavy with its new responsibility.
It tried harder and harder to keep the cans cold,but it was so hard. "I
think I can, I think I can," he said, over and over again.

The monitor said 12:00 noon. About halfway there. The little Coke fridge
was so tired, but it was over halfway there. "I know I can, I know I
can!" he said, inhaling a fresh breath of electricity and continuing.

It was 3:30. The poor little Coke fridge was so very tired. Its motor
strained, whir, whir, its lights strained, blink, blink, its fan
strained, whoosh, whoosh, and it kept saying, "I know I can, I know I
can!"

And finally it was 4:30. The little Coke fridge knew it had done its
duty, and the big bad executive would soon be there for his Coke. But
no, instead of the big bad executive, in came the cute young secretary.
"The big bad executive told me that you have some Coke for me," she
said, smiling. The little Coke fridge's motor went zoom, zoom as she
opened his door and took out the Coke. "Oh thank you," she said, "You
have been such a good little Coke fridge." And she picked up the little
coke fridge and hugged and kissed him.

"I knew I could, I knew I could," said the little coke fridge, relaxing
in the cute young secretary's embrace, and he knew it was all
worthwhile. You see, it was the cute young secretary's last day at the
office, and along with the computers and office equipment she stole, she
also stole the little coke fridge, and they lived together happily ever
after.

What's the Date?

Okay, this Friday the Thirteenth [insert unthinkable expletive here] will never make sense to me. The days of the month are arbitrary. I mean, since the leap-year was invented, everything shifts every four years anyway. So someone tell me, please, how you could possibly explain

• (a) how a certain arbitrary day of the week falling on an even more arbitrary day of the month could possibly makethe slightest bit of difference, and
  
• (b) why any being, force, or whatever would bother with something so ... so ... so ... I can't even come up with a word for it.

I think I'll go walk under a ladder or two, throw some salt over my shoulder, go down to the Humane society and buy a few dozen black cats to ensure that they cross my path, break a mirror or two, and step on all the sidewalk cracks I can find.

Now, my tongue is largely inmy cheek in this message. I realize that I also have beliefs and ideas that probably seem sily to some, so be it. But if anyone can come up with a logical, rational explanation why it should matter a pair of fetid dingo's kidneys what day of the month/week it is, I'll be very interested indeed.