Pickle Story!

As a golden luster light shined in my lime green eyes as my shiny lush green body shined. The first thought was "how is life like to be the pickle?". A dark ink shadow overcasts me. As a wrinkled hand yanked me out of the stem of my pickle plant home. As I was thrown aggressively into a wooden bamboo basket I saw other pickles like myself from the PicklePicklePickle plant or the Big Pickle or Pickletania. A large range of pickles stated of where they where born and how much water they got and the horror of the old wrinkled unhygienic farmers.
As I peek trough a crack in the thin weaved wood as far as I can see a colossal range of lush green pickle plants enjoying the golden sun. As more farmers i could hear the faint screams of other pickles getting picked. As we get through into a large box I can hear a sharp "!crack!" from the pickles on the bottom getting broken to bits. As the cardboard box closed with a loud sealing of duct tape I dozed off to sleep.

As days and days passed by it seemed like months years... then a forceful breeze of fresh clean air swooped into the brown box. As I see a person with a shiny hard like yellow cap he cautiously looks around and grabs a pickle. A pickle right beside me was picked one row in from of me. As the little pickle screams in terror vibrant lime green liquids ooze out of the bite mark. As the despicable violent human bites the lower part of the young pickle the pickle shrieks in pain. Then it is silent and the pickle is gone. As the human rubs his tongue on the remaining pickle blood on his mouth he reached for second one. His hand moved right to me. As a loud yell echoed through the factory the person didn't grab me he them put the box on a moving device.

As steel mechanical hands grab the box and takes it away my mind boggles with wonder. " Why am i here?, will i die in this box? , where am I now?, will other humans eat me?" Then a sudden shock wave could be felt by every pickle. Like the Titanic everything swayed . Pickles collided into each other and slammed into the cardboard walls. After bruised and punctures where on pickles. The impact caused half of them to die. But not me... I was determined to get out of this hellhole. As I and other conscious pickles where thrown on this black plastic smelling moving device mist like water droplets sprayed me and other pickles. As I passed we where dropped into a big silver bowl filled with vinegar and salt plus other chemical and nasty related substances witch I can't explain. But the only thing was that it was like acid rain. The smell was like a sour peach on a blazing July morning. As other fellow troupes of what I call " pickle resistance" mostly are wiped out. Only me and twenty other pickles. As I was then picked up and tossed around. I hit other dead pickles. Then twelve pickles are put into a jar. I am put into it. As a roller comes and labels the jar this is continued with other pickles too. As sour juice is filled with dill ,garlic chunks and of course pickles. As i could peek thought the crystal glass jar we then where put into a box and shipped to Texas. As the box again was sealed and stored away I was within it.


In the box was moved from side to side glasses filled with alive and dead pickles clanged and collided with each other. As from hour to hour it was continually a rhythm of noise. Then one day after those dark hours light peeked in through the box. As people with blue vest with a sunshine logo with a white name tag that said Wal- Mart. As the people picked each pickle jar and put them us on neatly on a shelve. Our price was ranged at $ 9.00. As we where shaken and stirred. Everything was then still. As living pickles tried to recovered mores died. As I still survive I slowly drink the disgusting green liquid that a little fraction of water. My main routine was...


6:00 am watch people scurry by to grab the best deal

Until 3:00 pm I watch a clerk sort out some things on the selves

At 6:00pm I watch the lights dim down

At 9:00pm Watch all of the workers walk out of Wal-Mart and shut down the energy and Wal -

Mart is then closed.

At 10:00pm I go to sleep

As this routine keep on passing by I wished not to die in this lifeless jar but to see other things outside of this rollback prices store.
Then one day my luck changed. As a clerk came up the the pickle section and crossed out the regular price ( $9.00) to ( 99 cents). My pickle slime heart skipped five beats as I observed this beautiful sale. As the sliding doors opened everyone rushed in and started grabbing pickles off the shelf like wild piranhas. As my jar got snatched I was ran to the till ( by a human) and was bought. As I was put into a groceries bag I was driven home to the so called fridge. As I was sorted and put into the cold bright machine. As other prisoned vegetables where in here I felt I was at home. We introduced out names I was Pickle, the bright orange carrots name was Carrot Top, The dark zucchini was named Zuc, Celery was named Lery, and the three peppers Green, Red and Yellow. They all told me how they got here carrot was freshed picked from the garden, Zuc was bought from Quality Greens, Lery was given from a friend and the three peppers where bought in an Italian spice store.

As there was a rumour stirred that there was a barbecue today it legend tells that meat from a cow is fried with zucchini and peppers. Which The three peppers and zucchini shook their heads in despair and supposedly I was used to put on so called hamburgers and Lery is used to put in a salad on to make him and Carrot Top more " tasty" with glazed salad sauce. As everyone shook their heads it was the time. Mumbles of English words could be heard as we where selected one buy one. The three peppers red, yellow and green following with zucchini was chopped up and put on the head broiled grill. As then Lery and carrot Top was diced and put into a salad with almonds and sweet raspberry sauce. As I was pulled out I screamed and yelled I watched helplessly as the dead lifeless pickles where sliced with a Chinese veggie cutting knife. They where then put on a plate and displayed on the table waiting to be eaten . As a little kid skipped along and ate a pickle. His freckles with his orange hair scared me. I felt helpless all lonely and depressed. As he grabbed for me I slipped out of his dirty greasy hands. As I was repeatedly picked up again and stabbed with a toothpick. As green slime oozed out of myself I closed my eyes as memories flashed before me. My fellow pickles where where they?, why could I not be a pickle. As more and more thoughts swirled in my head i was motionless. The only thing i could hear was a loud crunch. i couldn't scream I knew I was done for. So this is a life of a pickle....