A Journey of Pickles

Stuart looked at his hamburger. “Perfect, except for one detail.” He walked to the pantry, looked at the shelves for a few long moments. He sighed. “We’re out of pickles.” He sighed again. Deeper. “I hate the basement.” He looked at the door leading down to the deep, dark basement. “Fine.”

He walked over to the door and was soon going down the wooden stairs. He clicked on the light on the way down and started looking around. He texted his girlfriend, the lovely Fiona, to see if she knew where the pickles were, and she said they were on the far wall. He looked at the far wall, saw all of the jars, and his eyes rolled. “That narrows it down.”

A few more steps, and he was under the other light pull. He pulled it and the basement was flooded with light. He took another step and tripped on a loose board, but quickly recovered. “Great, the floor is trying to kill me.” He continued on to the far walls.

He looked for some form of organization and found none. He glared at the foods like they were at fault. He sighed and started looking for the pickles. He quickly discovered that there were three distinct sections: jellies, vegetables/fruits, and pickled things. He delved into the pickled section and soon found the target of his quest. He reached for the jar of pickled slices and tried to pick them up.

He frowned as he found they were stuck to the shelf.

He just twisted the jar a little and it came off the shelf. He then grasped the jar as if to open it and found it stuck tight. He grasped it and tried to twist it open. No dice. He grabbed his shirt, wrapped the top of the jar, and tried to open the jar. Again, no dice. Frustrated, he texted Fiona; she suggested the channel locks on the tool wall. He walked over and grabbed them.

She texted back: You don’t need pickles. If you’re up here when I come back we can have some fun. He smirked. He then put the channel locks around the top of the jar and opened up the jar. “I may miss out on some fun, but this would continue to annoy me.” He put the channel locks down. He then reached into the jar, pulled out a slice, and put it into his mouth. He savored the briny sourness and the crunch. He momentarily debated returning with his prize, possibly leaving it behind (she didn’t need to know that she had opened the jar, after all), but then decided it was time to return.

He pulled the chain, throwing the basement back into its original darkness. He walked back to the stairs, but stumbled over the same loose board. “I need to fix that.” He walked to the stairs, concentrating on the other pull-chain. He pulled it, and the entire basement became dark. Puzzled, he looked up and saw the edges of the door highlighted with light. He cursed under his breath as he pulled the chain. “I guess I also need to make sure that the door stays open.”

He texted her one more time: How long until you’re home? She texted back a smiley. The door opened and Fiona stood in the light. He climbed the stairs and hugged her. “What would I do without you?” He closed the door, reopened it, and closed it again. He walked over to his burger, put a couple of pickle slices on the burger, and closed the lid on the burger. He closed his eyes as he bit into it. He chewed for a few moments. “Yes, that was worth it.”

Fiona poked him. “It had better have been. No nookie for you.” She was practically giggling.

He put the burger down and grabbed the redheaded woman. “Wanna share?” They embraced.

She pulled back. “Make me a burger.” She smiled. “You know I hate pickles.”

He smiled as he separated. Fortunately, he had burgers ready to go.