The pig wins!

So I’m digging in my refridgerator, looking for a low- or no-fat snack. I’ve cleaned it out a few times, but there was one bottle that kept getting shoved aside, forgotten. I would take it out so I could wipe down all the shelves, then replace it without a second thought. Today, finally, it caught my attention. I reached way in, grabbed it, and looked at the anceint label. Dill pickles!

“Oh, boy!” I say aloud. I then realise that I am saying “oh, boy” over a jar of dill pickles and start thinking of ways to get a life.

I open the jar easily enough, which means it has been opened at least once before. But when? I decide to smell it. Ew. It does not smell like dilly goodness. I tentatively take one out, and nibble the end. Ptui! BLECH! These things are no good at all!

I glance around the kitchen, wanting to get rid of the wretched things. I don’t want to dump this heavy jar into the garbage. I don’t want it to break and get glass and liquid through the bag, obviously. I dump the brine into the sink. Still, I don’t want to throw all these nasty wet pickles into the bag - it’s a brand new garbage bag, I just changed it. What a waste of a good garbage bag. It’s bad enough these once delicious pickles are wasted. Ah, the garbage disposal!

The garbage disposal has been acting kind of weird lately. But that just makes things more fun. I call the garbage disposal a “pig”. Back when I was in high school, my best friend’s mother used to call the disposal a pig. I never found out why. She would say, “I’m going to put this in the pig!” She’d drop an item in, turn on the “pig”, and giggle. I loved her to pieces. She always had fun. Even with garbage disposals.

So, here I am today, standing with a brineless jar of wet pickles, eyeing the malfunctioning pig. I pull a pickle from the jar, aim, and fire it into the hole! I turn on the water, then flick the switch. Whee! There goes the pickle! I keep the water and the disposal running, and throw another one in. Whee! There goes another one. The water is beginning to build up. It doesn’t seem to be draining. Ah well. Whee! Another! And another! Eventually, I’m out of pickles. The water level has risen. I leave the disposal going and throw out the empty jar. I lean over the sink, listening to the disposal grunting.

“Come on, pig!” I say.

The keys rattle in the door, but I don’t notice. I’m leaning over the sink, watching the drain. The water level begins to decrease. “Come on, pig!” I cheer on.

Finally, I watch gleefully as the water is spun down the drain. I throw my arms up in the air and shout: “THE PIG WINS!”

I reach over and flick the switch to off. I hear someone clearing their throat. I turn and look and see my husband standing in the kitchen entryway, looking bewildered.

“I *don’t * want to know,” he says, and walks away.

~sigh. No one has as much fun with the pig as I do. My best friend’s mom would have appreciated it.

I know, I know, I need to get out more. And stop talking to the appliances. I figure I’m doing all right, as long as they don’t talk back to me.

You mean you didn’t say, “That’ll do, pig”?

:smiley:

You know, you’re right. I should have. Next time. :slight_smile:

Maybe my husband wouldn’t think I was nuts, then. Or maybe not.

Well, do you do stuff like that often? You have to talk to the appliances, in my opinion. That way they know you care about them, and will work better. This may sound a bit loopy, but my friend Kyle yelled at his iron, and the next day it died and he had to buy a new one.

Of course, he called to tell me about this, and I listened attentively. Hmm, we might want to see about some of that “having a life” stuff ourselves.

Hmm. I talk to my appliances, furniture, inanimate objects (as well as animate objects) all the time. I’m alone much of the time.

I haven’t noticed whether or not it makes them work better or worse. Maybe it’s because most of the time it’s pretty neutral. “Nice weather we’ve been having, eh, love?” That kind of thing.

I kid.

Oh, man! That was a great, awesome, funny, really really well written story. I was cracking up bigtime. If you don’t write seriously then you oughta. That would’ve made a cool kids’ book; you know, an oversize book with great drawings… something along the lines of The Stinky Cheeseman. I’m even seeing the illustrations in my head! Or maybe a Thurbery-type short story.

Anyhow, you rock.

Thanks for that; it totally made my day!

Creaky - :o

I enjoy writing, and I’d like to do more of it, however this isn’t my most shining piece of work, to be certain. It was written as I thought it, under five minutes, since I was recounting an event that had already happened. It needs some structural work, and some heavy work on the rambl-y-ness, and a good spellcheck and grammar check wouldn’t hurt it, either. :wink:

But I thank you very kindly for the compliment - nice ego boost for someone who’d like to one day be a writer (but has a long way to go, yet).

You definitely have the talent for it! I scared the cats laughing! Don’t over work it - the spark of it is just lovely!

You do tell a good and funny story, Anastasaeon.

The pig always wins. :cool:

(Thanks for the great story!)

Thank you for the wonderfully entertaining story, and thankyouthankyouthankyou for proving to Mr Mad that I’m not the only person to talk to inanimate objects.

Now, if someone could please explain to him that complimenting redwinged blackbirds on the magnificence of their epaulets is not “nutso” :smiley: