Buy two packs of yoghurt and save some cash. That's the sort of deal you'll think is okay if you were planning to buy two packs. I was planning to buy two packs anyway.
Action!
I opened one pack with the plan of steadily munching through the individual cartons at a reasonable rate. That unopened pack would be okay. The goods wouldn't spoil in the meantime.
Usually I open these packs and shuffle individual cartons around, to make better use of space inside the fridge. This once, I didn't bother opening the second pack.
Yes, a mistake in the making. Days later, having demolished the first batch, it was time to uncork the second wave. Or something.
Dan-dan-dah!
Well. Fuck. Here's some creature, trying to escape from the packet.
Revenge of the Yoghurt. Starring...me. In a world of lumbering movie trailer voiceovers, hope will dawn. Protagonists will face destiny and dairy products.
It is the distant future. The year is unimportant. All the futuristic cars still have drivers and work off petroleum-based products. Society is peaceful. War is abolished. Yet there is a threat, lurking in every refrigerator.
No, not The Stuff.
(File under movie with once-in-a-lifetime cast. No. Really.)
What's that movie about? Communist yoghurt infiltrates the USA in a shameless Invasion of the Yoghurt Snatchers mash-up with, er, The Blob.
Anyway, I couldn't work out which of the cartons released the beast. Gasp. I washed them all clean in the sink, and just couldn't tell. Maybe yoghurt from elsewhere crept into the outer packaging and lurked there.
I didn't trust the stuff, so I opened all the suspect packages and committed a yoghurt massacre right there in the sink. And that's how to defeat evil. You don't sample it. Or go into the cellar. Especially if you don't have a cellar.
It's really hard to go into the cellar when there isn't one. I know. Try it out if you don't believe me. You'll need an excavation tool and planning permission.
No, the yoghurt didn't surface from the sink a minute later to try to kill me again after I'd clearly vanquished it. People should stop putting shit like that in movies. Seriously.
Only the yoghurty scent lingered. But not for long. Roll credits. The speeded-up credits you see on TV when they want to move on to the next item as swiftly as contractually-permitted.
Moral? Check your yoghurt. Don't check my yoghurt. I flushed it.
This story was brought to you by the letter h. Some readers may find the spelling of yoghurt offensive. Others may find the concept of yoghurt offensive. I can't help you with either problem.
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