Smoking Pickles -Cherity Prince-Phillips

The interesting thing about me is that I was bred on a whim by a red head with gumption and a genius lacking social grace. I live in the world of maybe. In this world, I reign supreme. I beat around bushes with almost secret agent tact. I laugh at the sad and cry at the silly. Though, somehow I always find myself the carrier of the perpetual pickle.

Pickle being said, I bring myself to what I put on the card. The pickle I picked to pronounce was “The Smoking Pickle”. Down to my kind of southern roots, in a little town called Las Vegas, I covered an entire bathroom with soot without lighting it on fire.

How did one accomplish such a spectacular feat? Why one simply lit a candle and left it burning all night with the door closed with perfect thoughtlessness. Of course upon finding the bathroom in such a state I wondered what had caught on fire. Nothing, was the answer but soot was the mess. Since I am known for such conundrums and I had just recently got off the hook from the last one, I tempted fate. I took rags to ever bit of those walls. This had to be sneaky.

I went downstairs for breakfast as cool as any clam could who had the chance of meeting a smoking pickle. Ate as casually as possible, then announced, “Stupid stomach shut up!”. My stomach is notorious for being upset at the mildest of meals. So this was an ingenious excuse to spend the majority of the morning in the bathroom without interruption.

I spent three hours in the bathroom successfully covering up or rather wiping off any evidence of indiscretion. Thus successfully saving myself from questions I had no answers to. I still do not know how a little candle created all that soot. My thought, is that it was offended by being shut up in a bathroom. Regardless of how’s and the why’s I ate my pickle and was satisfied.