Friday, 20 July 2012

In a pickle

I just love pickles. They are juicy, crunchy, sour, salty, tasty and all other good things besides. If you happen to like them, as I do.

I had a large glass jar of pickles and every day I took some out to enjoy with my meal until eventually there was only a tiny little bit of pickle right at the bottom of the jar. It would be a shame to waste it.

So I put my right hand into the jar and tried to dislodge the bit of pickle at the bottom. It was quite a squeeze to get my hand in and … ehm … how shall I say this … my hand got stuck inside the glass jar.

No matter how much I tried to pull it out my hand was stuck inside the jar at the wrist. No twisting or turning would release it.

I remembered from science classes at school that heat expands things and makes them bigger … so a little heat would enlarge the neck of the jar and release my hand.


I poured boiling water inside the jar and nearly cooked my hand trapped in there. I raised my arm up in the air to empty the jar quickly and got hot water splashing all over me.

There must be a logical solution to this. I don’t want to break the jar in case the glass cuts my hand to shreds.

I decided to phone Aunt Philomena. She’s an expert at everything and is sure to have an answer.

It’s difficult picking up the phone and dialing the number with one hand. I picked the phone with my left hand and balanced it gingerly on my left shoulder. Then I started to dial Auntie’s number. As the phone was ringing I got an itch just above my right eye. I raised my right hand to scratch it and hit my head hard with the glass jar knocking myself to the ground.

I must have passed out for a few seconds.

I could hear a distant voice saying “Hello … hello … stop breathing heavily down the phone or I’ll call the police …”

I said incoherently “Is that you Aunt Philomena?”

I explained that I was not a phantom obscene phone call maker and told her my predicament. The poor lady must have been in shock because all she muttered was “Butter … plenty of butter …”

She was obviously thinking about making cakes or something delicious which is quite her forte.

All the talk of butter made me hungry. I went back to the kitchen and with my free hand I put two slices of bread in the toaster.

I got a packet of butter from the fridge but it was too cold and almost solid. To soften it a bit I put the packet in the microwave oven for a minute or so.

When I got it out of the oven it was too hot and I dropped the packet of almost melted butter on the floor.

I bent down to wipe it with a towel and I slipped backwards on the melted butter and the water I had previously splashed all over the place.

As I landed on my back my hand must have struck the ground hard and broke the glass jar into million pieces.

I was found later when my family returned from the shops lying unconscious in a pool of water, congealed butter and broken glass … but no blood.

I blame Aunt Philomena for this!


  1. Glad you lived, Victor ;) Didn't you blame Aunt Philomena for the last incident too? Or was that your Aunt Gertrude? Matilda? I can't keep track of them all but I remember the post about the visiting priest clearly. Oh right, that was definitely Aunt Philomena. I wouldn't call her for help next time, she seems a bit long winded, don't you think?

  2. You're so right Mary, it was Aunt Philomena who'd gone with the wind. Maybe it was a bit unfair to blame her this time though ... I'll blame the pickles instead.

    Tell you something though ... it doesn't half hurt when you want to scratch an itch just above your eye and you raise your hand quickly and hit yourself in the face with a glass jar. Have you ever tried it? Not recommended.

    God bless.

  3. Would you think this catastrophe was worth the pickle??
    I wouldn't mind it being the only true follower in the family of pickle myself. People almost puke when I tell them how I like pickle.
    So my plate on a given day has veggies in the quantity of pickle and pickle eaten like a veggie. :) :D

  4. Hi Ruth,

    I think pickles are nice as long as they're not too hot. Gherkins are the best.

    God bless.



God bless you.

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