The Pennsylvania Pickle

       Richard Davidson / Humor
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The Pennsylvania Pickle
THE PENNSYLVANIA PICKLE
BY: RICHARD A. DAVIDSON




Do not attempt. All scenes and characters are fictional.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 – A hero is born
Chapter 2 – Time to suit up
Chapter 3 – I hope the elevator works
Chapter 4 – Time to regroup
Chapter 5 – We finally meet
Chapter 6 – Another day at work
Chapter 7 – Something smells
Chapter 8 – Time to look for clues
Chapter 9 – Going undercover
Chapter 10 – Collecting my thoughts
Twitter: @ThePAPickle







Chapter 1 – A hero is born

As I sat there on my couch watching the news, I grew angry and frustrated at all the crime and bad things happening. I wish I could do something, I thought to myself. I turned the TV off and went to bed not knowing my life would soon change forever.
I woke up early the next morning with a sharp pain in my ass. It turns out I was lying on the remote control. I removed the remote control from under me and got out of bed. It was a Saturday morning and I didn’t have to work, so I went to the local store for a snack. I walked up and down the aisles. What am I in the mood for? I thought. Then I saw it, the last jar of pickles. I grabbed the pickles and scurried to the checkout line.
The cashier said, “Paper or plastic?” I said, “Paper.” He said, “Cash, credit, or debit?” I said, “Cash.” He asked, “Do you have a rewards card?” I said, “No.” He asked, “Would you like to sign up for one?” I said, “No.” He said, “It will save you five percent.” I said, “No.” He said, “Can I see some ID?” I grew agitated but said, “OK” and I showed it to him. He said, “Please sign on the screen.” I signed. He gave me my bag and showed me on the receipt that there was a survey to take to possibly win a prize. By that time I was so angry I couldn’t wait to take my frustration out and bite into a hard, crisp, pickle. The frustration went away and my mouth began to water. I violently opened the jar of pickles as fast as I could, like I hadn’t eaten for weeks. I carefully took out a pickle and put the lid back on. As I was putting the jar back into the paper bag it happened. “Ouch I squealed!” The brown bag had given me a small, not visible to the naked eye, papercut! Then I noticed something else, some pickle juice had gotten into my cut! I dropped to one knee. “Ouch that hurts! What’s happening to me?” I thought. I felt a weird sensation come over me, and within a few seconds it was gone.
I pulled myself together and started to walk home, when I heard a scream, “Someone help!” It was a woman who was being robbed. Then it hit me. The pickle juice has transformed me. I threw a pickle at the robber and it hit him in the eye. He cried and squealed and cried some more before finally running away. The woman said, “Who are you.” I looked down at the ground and saw the pickle and replied. “I’m The Pennsylvania Pickle and I’m the hero this world needs!”

Chapter 2 – Time to suit up

I now knew my true calling. However, I needed a way to disguise myself and some gadgets to help. It was time to get to work. I grabbed a green bath towel from my bathroom, a green fanny pack from my closet, and drew a pickle with a lightning bolt through it on an old white tank top. Next, I grabbed my blue short shorts, green gardening gloves, and a pair of boots. The clothing fit snugly around me, I am after all a large man with a big waist and a big sagging belly. With this disguise, no one will ever know it’s me. “Now what should I use for a weapon?” I contemplated. I found the biggest pickle I could that would be my main weapon. I took a lid off one of my pickle jars which will be my shield. “I will be greatly feared by all!” I said, as I puffed out my chest. “Armed with a pickle lid, a strong moral compass, and a hard, crisp pickle, I’m ready to take the fight to the bad guys. I’m The Pennsylvania Pickle!” I said, in a deeply exaggerated tone. I continued designing and getting together some other weapons and clothing. I bought a green speedo for when I need to go undercover, it’s not the most flattering for my big belly but it is necessary. I also made a pickle boomerang, pickle nunchucks, and filled a squirt gun with pickle juice. “This is a good start, now I needed a ride.” I muttered under my stinky breath. I bought got an old car from the junk yard that looked long like a pickle and had old rust bumps on it. I painted it green and got it running. I now had a picklemobile. I was ready to clean up the trash, because now it was time for me to go to work. I am a certified waste management engineer, a garbage man if you will, during the day. After work, I will suit up and begin my quest to be the greatest hero ever. Villains everywhere will fear my hard, crisp pickle!
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