I should probably stop telling the kids that the new fridge is a teleporter because someone is going to try to get in it and we all know that's a bad idea.
When the deliverymen were here yesterday I just had this weird flash – what if they were delivering a teleporter? What if that's the norm in the far away future? Sweaty guys show up one afternoon in a big truck (because, ironically, you can't teleport the teleporter), wheel this huge metal thing into your house, hook it up to the wall, hand your parents an owner's manual, and then make it very clear that no one is to use it during the first 24-hour "cooling down" period.
Then there would be lengthy discussions about how teleporters are not for unaccompanied minors, and no one is to ever unlock the keypad so that the 2-year-old can bang on it. And, if when you teleport with Dad to school in the morning and forget your lunch, there will be no teleporting of the lunch to you because it is a lesson you have to learn about remembering your things.
Anyway, the new fridge is not a teleporter, which is a shame. But it will keep the food cold and it will produce ice magically from the door, so at least there's that.
I will tell you, though, it did manage to teleport a lot of money from my bank account so now the broken grill and the broken Wii will have to wait before being replaced.
And even though the broken grill can now shoot flames from its knobs, it's not a portal to the Hellmouth.
No teleporter. No Hellmouth.
C'mon, summer, at least you could send some aliens to fix the Wii.