The Pickle Story

Chapter One: The Pickles Arising

The pickle said, “Hi, what’s your name?”
I was astonished. I mean, pickles don’t talk, do they? I am scared.
“Come on, I know you can talk, silly boy,” said the pickle.
How does this pickle know this? Has it been following me my entire life? Sitting in a chair by the fireplace, eating pumpkin pie is another pickle.
“Yummy yummy yummy yummy yummy yummy yummy yummy!” said the Pumpkin Pie pickle. “Pie starts with P, and so does pickle! Yay!” Now pickles know their spelling. Dumbfounded, I try to walk away slowly back into my room. “I, uh, have to go eat pick- I mean go pick beats! Yeah…”
“So that means you can talk! Yay!” Said the original pickle. (How about we call him Arnold?) Then the two pickles ran to me. Yes, they ran. Don’t ask me how, it’s just that all of sudden the pickle is moving around very fast. Just then, I realize tiny little pickle legs have sprouted out the bottom of the pickle. Now, it was time for me to run.

Chapter Two: Pickle Time!
My room was an absolute mess. Books were all over the place, scattered clothes, dirty socks, and crumpled up paper meant many places for pickles to trip, and fall. Or hide. Well, I better now think about that for now, because just then I heard the tiny pickle feet scampering around. I jumped into my bed, flew under the sheets, and waited.

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Arnold exclaimed, “Come out silly boy! We don’t bite! We hardly even have mouths!”
“I’ll even give you some delicious Pumpkin Pie! Yum yum!"
The pickles were searching around aimlessly, because they weren't looking there hardest. They knew where the boy was. They had cheese! The mighty cheese, which everyone knows knows everything.
"I wonder if cheese comes in pie... Well, THERE HE IS! PICKLE HIM!
That very moment, the boy felt very... odd. Like a pickle.

Chapter 3: Pickle Fun
Why is my bed so big? Why are my legs so skinny? WHY AM I GREEN? It couldn’t be... It’s impossible... I’m a pickle now! NOOOOO!!!!
“Yes! You are one of us now!” shouted Arnold happily. “This must be some crazy dream... And I can’t even pinch myself! I DON’T HAVE ARMS!” I screamed angrily. “Yes, maybe you don’t have arms... But you sure do have hands!” “What... but... so they... FLOAT IN THE AIR? WHAT AM I, A JEDI OR SOMETHING?” “Well, we pickles disapprove of Star Wars... except for that one weirdo who lives in Mexico, but we don’t talk about him.” “You pickles sure are crazy...”
“Okay, no offense or any thing, you guys are great, but I really want to be a human again.” “Well, remember Mexico? That’s the big place with a lot of pickles. There is an orange pickle,