In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Embrace the Ick.”
And I am seriously passionate about that hate. It’s the one thing I have yet to give up hating in a life where hate is something I just don’t have room for anymore. The hate goes deep my friends… I won’t elaborate on the disturbing things that have lead me to it. It’s not pickling in general, just pickles. Those dark, bumpy, stinking logs that used to be beautiful cucumbers. I like cucumbers. Have you ever had sliced cucumber ice water? Awesome! Cucumbers on salad are crisp and refreshing. Even added to a green drink to bring a cool flavor to your emulsified kale or spinach. I like picked jalapenos, pickled carrots, any number of other pickled items including peppers. It’s the smell of pickles in the fridge when the jar is left open, the pickle juice that taints my fries on the burger plate, the bizarre looks I get when I tell a waiter “no pickles on my plate please”. WTF, why is there an attitude when I don’t want pickles? I say leave the cucumbers be. Free the cucumbers from the torment of pickling! I know I am supposed to be embracing the glowing merits of pickles for this prompt but I just can’t. Too much hate. Leave me and my pickle hatred to work itself out in therapy.