I was sitting in my room a few minutes ago when I heard my mother yell my name at the top of her lungs (even though I can basically hear everything she whispers, from the basement where I live. Being on different floor levels just gives the household an excuse to scream sometimes.)
"SHADY!!!"
"WHAT!!!"
I waited silently. There was nothing. As usual. Then, louder,
"SHADY!!!!"
"...WHAT????"
"COME HERE!!"
I ran upstairs and kind of fell down on account of lightheadedness and by the time I got up to the kitchen I leaned on the counter so I wouldn't pass out. My mom was cutting up random vegetables and making a giant platter of the slices.
"Shady, look at these pickles."
"What?"
She brought out these nine little pickle slices on her palm and set them down on the counter.
"I want you to make a story of these pickles."
I had just been reading stories in my room, and was a little dizzy and confused and wasn't exactly sure if she was saying what I heard.
"Do you want me to eat them?"
"No! I want you to make a story of them!"
"Of what?"
"The pickles!"
"...Why?"
"Because look at them. They're like little faces. I was cutting up these pickles and thought to myself, Shady would look at these pickles and make a story about them or something. Aren't they just hilarious?"
I blinked. "...why is one of them broken?"
"Because it's laughing!"
"It's broken from laughter?"
"Look, look." She moved over next to me and prodded the pickle slices. "They're probably all telling jokes or something. Like - this pickle is saying 'hey' and this pickle says 'hello' and then that pickle says 'do you want to hear a joke?' and the other pickle says 'yes' and then the next pickle says 'there was a jew and a priest and a rabbi and they were all hilarious' and then that one pickle is, um, sneezing, and the other pickle is laughing with its eyes closed. Like this:"
She then squinted her eyes shut and opened her mouth as wide as possible and laughed very loudly.
"...can I eat one?"
"No. Here, you can eat these two. They are silent. They have nothing to say."
"I can eat them because they're not talking?"
As opposed to the pickles that are...?
"So can you think of a story or not?"
"I think this is the story. Can I get my camera?"
"SHADY!!!"
"WHAT!!!"
I waited silently. There was nothing. As usual. Then, louder,
"SHADY!!!!"
"...WHAT????"
"COME HERE!!"
I ran upstairs and kind of fell down on account of lightheadedness and by the time I got up to the kitchen I leaned on the counter so I wouldn't pass out. My mom was cutting up random vegetables and making a giant platter of the slices.
"Shady, look at these pickles."
"What?"
She brought out these nine little pickle slices on her palm and set them down on the counter.
"I want you to make a story of these pickles."
I had just been reading stories in my room, and was a little dizzy and confused and wasn't exactly sure if she was saying what I heard.
"Do you want me to eat them?"
"No! I want you to make a story of them!"
"Of what?"
"The pickles!"
"...Why?"
"Because look at them. They're like little faces. I was cutting up these pickles and thought to myself, Shady would look at these pickles and make a story about them or something. Aren't they just hilarious?"
I blinked. "...why is one of them broken?"
"Because it's laughing!"
"It's broken from laughter?"
"Look, look." She moved over next to me and prodded the pickle slices. "They're probably all telling jokes or something. Like - this pickle is saying 'hey' and this pickle says 'hello' and then that pickle says 'do you want to hear a joke?' and the other pickle says 'yes' and then the next pickle says 'there was a jew and a priest and a rabbi and they were all hilarious' and then that one pickle is, um, sneezing, and the other pickle is laughing with its eyes closed. Like this:"
She then squinted her eyes shut and opened her mouth as wide as possible and laughed very loudly.
"...can I eat one?"
"No. Here, you can eat these two. They are silent. They have nothing to say."
"I can eat them because they're not talking?"
As opposed to the pickles that are...?
"So can you think of a story or not?"
"I think this is the story. Can I get my camera?"
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