Number 12- The President's Sandwich... Not!

If it weren’t for that giant jar of vinegar I wouldn’t be stuck in this pickle. You see, when I was young, just a sprout, I always imagined that I would be part of a veggie sandwich that would be served to the president, or in an award winning salad at the fair. I never imagined that I would be pickled in a huge bottle of vinegar. Sad, I know. Let me tell you about it.

The first morning I saw I was just peeking out of my flower bud. I looked around and found that I was not the only cucumber in the garden. Many of the others were in different stages of development; some were fat, dark green, and curved with age while others were still a minty green and no thicker then a pencil. As we all grew older the dark green cucumbers would be picked. We would all wonder and guess about what they were being used for. I imagined the day that I would be picked. I would be the biggest, most beautiful cucumber in the entire garden and because of this I would be used for something magnificent as the president’s sandwich I mentioned earlier.

The days came and went and with each passing one I became larger and greener. It wasn’t long before it was my time to be picked and all the little buds were wondering where I was going. I knew, however, that I was headed for fame and fortune.

The gardener came and picked me and some others off the vine. We were thrown into a noisy basket full of tomatoes and carrots. Everyone was so excited that they were finally leaving the garden that they all spoke and yelled at the top of their lungs. The ride was bumpy and rather long for my liking, but I had never strayed anywhere before so I suppose I didn’t know what long was.

We arrived at the house where the gardener sorted us into various boxes and crates according to our size, color, and what type of veggie we were. Ours was the only gardener either. There was an entire building full of baskets being sorted by their reapers.

The sorting didn’t take long. The lid to the box that I was in was put over us shutting off day light. I cannot tell you much that happened now for all I knew was that there was much bouncing, groaning and darkness. I heard the words, “load,” ”truck,” “Sacramento” and, “pickles” now and again but I have no idea whether or not that had any bearing on me.
After this awful ride we were dumped out into these caldrons of water where each and every one of us were scrubbed up and down. Next these gardeners, or whatever they were, placed us in jars full of vinegar. They packed us in so tight that one could hardly gasp for air. Once the last cucumber was shoved in, the lid was screwed shut and we sat in a dark room for days.

After this dungeon like stay was over, our jar was placed on what I believe was called a grocery shelf. A day or so later a middle aged gardener, or man I think they call them, took us off the shelf and placed us in a paper bag. Again, I do not know what took place in outside of the bad except for excessive bumping and swishing around. Next thing I knew, we were sitting in front of a whole room of small men, gardeners… or whatever they are.

The lid came off and the man pulled me out of the jar and slapped me onto a piece of wood and then duct-taped me to it for, “stability.” After this two medal prongs were stuck into me that were connected to a light bulb. After the man messed with the prongs and bulb I suddenly felt a surge of energy and the bulb lighted up. He said it was something to do with, “electricity,” and ,”the pickle’s charge.”

Anyway, this is how I ended up duct-taped to this piece of wood and light bulb that you have found me on. They call you a, “Garbage Man,” right? Will you please take me off here now?