A Fridge Gone Bad

After a late evening at work, I came home to an empty but very clean apartment. Todd was at his language class and had left our place spic and span. I smelled something like bleach or ammonia, but I figured that it must have been from Todd's amazing cleaning job. When Todd finally got home, he told me we didn't have bleach or ammonia. Hmm. Well, we started searching for the source of the pungent odor. It appeared to be coming from the vent above the refrigerator. Mildly concerned and just a little light-headed, I opened a few windows. Todd, more concerned than I was, started placing calls. First, to our landlady. Then, to the refrigerator manufacturer. Unfortunately, neither was available to come by that night. I was resolved to sort out the issue the next morning. Todd, thankfully, thought we should explore further. With an English/Germany dictionary in one hand and a phone in the other, Todd slowly tried to explain our situation to the fire department. I'm not entirely sure of the exchange, but there were a few shoutings of "AMMON-YAK, AMMON-YAK!" from Todd. Five or so minutes after he got off the phone, the "fire brigade" arrived at our door -- complete with a huge fire truck and over half a dozen fully clad firefighters. Todd escorted them upstairs and within seconds, they told him to get out. They went down to the truck and pulled out full masks and oxygen tanks; they then went upstairs and retrieved the refrigerator. Turns out our refrigerator had "gone bad." This was new to us, especially since we saw no evidence of drug use. No, but seriously, the scene was right out of "24". And lucky for me and for those who want to keep me around, Todd had sense to bring in the brigade. We are now proud owners of a new refrigerator and a good story.