Pickle Write

The annoying sound of my ancient fridge screeching open as I pull the handle back. The first thing that I see, the beautiful pickle jar, I have been craving them all day. I glare into pickle jar searching for the biggest one. My mouth watering to the thought of the sour liquid running down your throat. After a couple hard minutes of searching for that special one, I spotted the perfect one, thick, long with a juicy look on it, the one I was looking for. I effortlessly slid the cupboard of my cutlery snatching a knife to capture that pickle out of the jar. I walk over to the jar very excited considering I have been craving pickles all day.

That beautiful sound of the jar popping open, like music to your ears, the sound making me more and more hungry for a pickle. I desperately spear at the pickle like a hunter on its prey as it keeps sliding away from the dull butter knife. I struggle to catch this pickle as the knife fails reputedly. I slam the knife to the ground in stress that I can’t catch this pickle, I run back over to the cupboard of the cutlery to grab a sharper knife. I try again numerous times, still failing I got more and more mad at myself. Eventually I dropped the knife and plunged my hand into the jar feeling around trying to grab that pickle. Finally I gripped my hands around the pickle giving an effort to not drop it. The thick slippery green liquid covering the pickle makes it hard to grip the long thick item of food. I raise my hand up to my mouth. I shove the crunchy juicy pickle in my mouth stuffing my face. My teeth engraving into the thick pickle and the juiciness run down my throat. As a chunk of the pickle ran down my throat, a seed went down the wrong tube, I began to gag as the pickle clogged my throat, trying to spit it up I kept struggling as the chunk of the pickle would not move. Gasping for air, trying to yell for help but I could talk or yell due to the fact that a pickle was stuck in my throat. Finally I took one last shot at it, trying to cough it up and all of a sudden I see the pickle flying thru the air across the room. The pickle landed on the table on the other side of the room as I watch in happiness that the pickle was gone from my throat. I don’t even bother to go and get the pickle, because I never fully ate that pickle, I proudly walk back over to the pickle jar ready to eat another.

This time I don’t even bother trying to get a knife to catch those swirmy pickles. Right off the bat I drop my hand into the jar attempting to catch a pickle. Happily this time I caught one right away not like last time where it took me a struggling 5 minutes. With no hesitation I shoved the fat crunchy pickle in my mouth trying hard not to choke again and successfully did not choke. I was proud of myself. The sourness running down my throat as my teeth engraves into the crunchiness of the pickle. From that day on, pickles were my favorite food.