Underpaid and Under Praised

The name is Gator,
Gator the refrigerator.
I have a cold heart and an even colder head.
Uneasy to anger, silence is my game,
an almost inaudible hum is all that I say for I am tame.
Barely noticed for my work 24/7,
I don’t think I’m appreciated not even in heaven.
I can even serve beverages, cold water with ice,
cubes or crushed either way I’m precise.
I posses a small light to light up your night,
you can see in the dark, the darkness cannot fight.
I’m not asking for thanks although that would be nice,
I think my constant silence is a vice.
So now I say for all to hear,
I’m sick and tired of holding your beer!
Tuna casserole is too much, I can’t stand fish,
when the door was opened the jell-o fell with a “squish!”
I hate when an egg breaks with a shatter,
or my shelf gets dirty with drippy pancake batter.
Wipe me down every once in a while,
the feeling is gross of this refried bean pile.
I’m liking the cheese I won’t deny that,
But c’mon! The refried beans?! It reminds me of shat!
The three frozen fish that were there at least a year,
they’re getting onerous; I can’t handle it, not now, not here.
Orange is annoying and won’t leave apple alone,
Orange about to meet my old friend Al Capone.
But as I say this don’t let it rub you the wrong way,
all I want is a little say.
Keep me clean and do what is right and just.
With you and I, trust is a must.
Odor free is what I want to be,
I met a nice mini-fridge but I am still free-to-be.
Although I do not receive the praise I deserve,
unspoiled food I will continue to serve.
Now that I’ve said it without any regrets,
I’ll shut my doors, continue to softly hum, and cool my jets.