I'm not in trouble or anything, I'm seriously IN a pickle.
Chapter 1 In a Pickle? For real.
It was March something, I don't remember, I was in a pickle. Not like, " Oh rats! I forgot my lunchbox! Am I in a pickle or not?!" or " My mom's gonna see this mess! Oh shucks! I'm in a pickle!". Not anything like that, it was way beyond that. I was truly most definitely inside a pickle. Lodged inside the pickle for a extremely long time. The sour juice got into my eyes and ears and it soaked through my shirt and on my belly button. My brain felt mushy like a soggy piece of toast. No, waffle.
Lodged inside that pickle made me realize something, how did I get inside the pickle? All I remember was walking home from Publix with a bag of nachos and something pushed me into the pickle. Then I realized that, why a pickle? Why not a bag of Cheez-its or something? Why did it have to be a stupid old smelly pickle? The odor stank like fifteen tons of sweaty gym socks wrapped around in farts.