Salt and Vinegar
By Joseph A. Davis
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Saul was a bag of Emperor Bob’s Homestyle Salt and Vinegar potato chips who lived on a supermarket shelf. His was the fourth shelf up, which was the perfect spot for watching customers walk by with their shopping carts loaded with all kinds of interesting items: cans of corn, tofu bacon, extra spicy chili sardines, onions and that kind of thing.
As Saul observed these shoppers, he liked to invent little games. For example, when a child begged a parent for some snack or other item, Saul would rate the child’s begging technique on a scale from one to ten and try to guess if the parent would give in or not. And when a shopper came from the direction of the produce aisle, he would try to guess how many onions that particular shopper’s cart contained. “That fellow looks big and strong,” he might think as a towering figure of a man turned the corner into the snack aisle, “so he probably has at least three onions.” Or, as he heard a small crowd of children approaching, “That family has four kids, so they probably need at least ten onions – one for Mom, one for Dad and two for each child.”
But while the shoppers provided Saul with some entertainment, this was always mixed with a little bit of sadness. Because although they filled their carts with all kinds of interesting items, they never seemed to want a bag of Emperor Bob’s Homestyle Salt and Vinegar potato chips. Saul had been on the shelf for quite some time now. The other, more popular chips often teased him, saying that his sell-by date was going to pass soon, and that he was going to get thrown in the dumpster out back. Saul didn’t know which was worse: the other chips’ teasing or the way the shoppers would walk right by without giving him a second look.
But then, one day, a shopper gave him more than just a second look. She was a little girl of about seven and a half, with dark, shoulder-length hair and a T-shirt decorated with penguins. When she looked up and caught sight of Saul, her face lit up, and she began jumping up and down excitedly. “Mommy, Mommy!” she cried. “Look, a penguin!”
Saul found this a bit confusing, since as far as he knew, he was not a penguin, but rather a bag of Emperor Bob’s Homestyle Salt and Vinegar chips. But then he remembered that his bag was decorated with a picture of Emperor Bob with his white suit and crown-tipped cane, feeding a chip to an Emperor Penguin.
“No, Winnie,” the girl’s mother said. “You don’t want those!”
“But Kyle got to choose a snack,” Winnie said, pouting.
Oh no, Saul thought. Don’t argue, little girl – a weak begging technique like that is a three out of ten at best! It’s going to backfire. Just say please very politely! Or talk about how happy I would make you, or how you’d like to share me with a sibling or something!
“You can choose a snack, my girl,” the mother said, and Saul’s hopes perked up. “But,” she continued, “you really don’t want those. Can’t you see they’re salt and vinegar? They’re going to be too sour, just like those nasty pickles that you didn’t like. That’s exactly the ingredients that give pickles their flavor: salt and vinegar. These are basically just the chip version of pickles.”
Saul’s heart sank as the mother led her daughter to the cheddar-flavored chips further down the snack aisle, leaving the shopping cart behind.
Looking down, he noticed that their shopping cart, which was parked directly below him, actually contained a jar of pickles. It was half-hidden under a bag of onions, but it was clearly there. At first this confused him, since the mother had just said that her daughter didn’t like pickles. But then, as he continued to study the half-hidden jar of sour, salty treats, he got an idea.
Should Saul …
Jump down into the shopping cart and hide among the other groceries?
Run away to the pickle aisle and try to start a new life as pickles?
Jump down into the shopping cart?
Sometimes, a bag of chips must take risks, Saul thought, leaning forward slightly. Gravity did its work, and he fell from his fourth-story shelf, tumbled through the air and landed on top of a bottle of banana and cinnamon-flavored diet soda that was marked with a red “on sale” sticker.
“Sorry,” Saul said, rolling painfully off the groaning plastic bottle. “I was aiming for the lettuce.”
“Hmmmph!” the lettuce said.
Meanwhile, the little girl was trying to decide if she wanted “Deluxe Cheddar” chips or “Totally Awesome Cheddar” chips. It sounded like she had almost decided on the latter. Which meant that Saul was going to have to find somewhere to hide, quick, if he didn’t want to get put straight back on the shelf as soon as the mother turned around and saw him.
He looked around for somewhere to hide and found a pack of paper towels he could crawl under. There was also large stuffed penguin – or wait, no, it wasn’t a stuffed animal, it was a penguin-shaped backpack. The zipper was open, and it looked like there should be just enough room for a bag of chips inside.
Should Saul …
Hide under the paper towels?
Saul burrowed his way under the pack of paper towels and lay as still as possible. Presently he heard footsteps approaching the cart, and the crinkly slapping sound of a tossed bag of chips landing nearby. Judging from the quiet groan that followed, it landed on the lettuce.
Saul resisted the urge to whisper to the other bag of chips and find out if the girl had chosen “Deluxe Cheddar” or “Totally Awesome Cheddar”. And he resisted the urge to peek out from under the paper towels to see what other items the mother and daughter collected as they made their way around the grocery store.
At last they arrived at the register, judging by the repeated use of the words “have a nice day” and “sorry, that coupon has expired”. Saul heard items being lifted from the cart around him. Then he was struck by a blinding light as the pack of paper towels was lifted off of him.
“Winnie!” the mother said sharply. “Didn’t I tell you not to take this bag of salt and vinegar chips?”
The little girl’s shocked face appeared over the edge of the cart. “But I didn’t, Mom!” she said. “I promise!”
Her mother heaved a deep sigh. “Winnie, how many times have I told you not to tell fibs? Am I going to have to put your cheddar chips back?”
“No, Mom, please!” Winnie cried.
“Well, I have to go put these salt and vinegar chips back on the shelf anyway,” her mother said. “I could just as easily take the cheddar chips with me while I’m there.”
“Oh, it’s no problem, Ma’am,” the cashier, a rather tall, skinny young man with red hair said. “Just give the chips you don’t want to me, and I’ll put them back later.”
Saul found himself hoisted from the cart and deposited next to the register. The little girl and her mother loaded the rest of their groceries onto the conveyor belt and then paid. Saul managed to catch sight of the bag of cheddar chips before it got packed into a paper bag. Totally Awesome Cheddar. Exactly what he would have guessed.
The little girl and her mother left with the groceries, and Saul sat there waiting and watching shoppers pay for their goods for a while. Finally, another cashier came to take the place of the first one, and the young man picked Saul up and carried him back toward the snack aisle.
Should Saul …
Let himself be carried back to his shelf?
Tell the young man to take him to the pickle aisle instead?
Let himself be carried back to his shelf?
Saul quickly dismissed the thought of saying anything to the young man. One of the unwritten rules of being a bag of chips was that one never said anything to humans, unless it was a sound effect like “crunch” or “crinkle”.
The young man brought him back to the familiar snack aisle and put him right back in his spot on the fourth shelf up.
As soon as the man had left, the teasing began.
“Well, look who’s back!” a bag of barbecue chips said. “I guess those shoppers had good taste after all!”
Saul ignored the comment.
“Awww, why so sour?” a bag of plain potato chips said mockingly.
“He’s sour because he’s headed for the dumpster tomorrow,” a little bag of kettle-cooked chips with sea salt said. “Or maybe it’s the other way around – maybe he’s headed for the dumpster tomorrow because he’s so sour!” She laughed.
The sudden sound of footsteps at the end of the aisle cut her laughter short.
The figure who entered the aisle was like something out of a potato chip commercial: a somewhat short but majestic old man in a fancy white suit, walking with a cane topped with a gold-colored crown.
“Emperor Bob!” Saul breathed as the figure, the spitting image of the cartoon feeding the chip to the penguin on the front of his bag, approached. At first, the sight of his creator filled him with wonder. But then, as he looked down at the cartoon image on his bag and thought of the sell-by date printed above, he felt overwhelmed by shame.
The white-clad man strolled closer and closer, and then, to Saul’s surprise and horror, he stopped right in front of him. The man’s warm brown eyes regarded him, and Saul quickly looked down.
“Ah, there you are!” Emperor Bob said with the voice of a man who had found a hidden treasure. “The last bag of salt and vinegar chips. And perfectly ripened, too – the day before the sell-by date, just the way my wife likes them! What a perfect fortieth anniversary gift. She will be so pleased.”
A hand, slightly wrinkled but warm and strong, took hold of Saul, and Emperor Bob lifted him down from the shelf and pressed him to his white-suited chest in a joyful embrace.
If the other chip bags had anything to say as Saul was carried off to the anniversary celebration, Saul didn’t hear, and he didn’t care, either. After all, what did the nasty words of a few bags of chips matter when he was such a treasure in the eyes of his creator?
THE END
Hide inside the backpack?
Saul hastily climbed into the backpack and hunkered down among the little girl’s treasures – a pack of gum, an interestingly-shaped but very uncomfortable rock, and a little stuffed penguin that was actually quite comfortable.
Judging from the sounds outside, the little girl and her mother soon returned and tossed a bag of chips into the cart. Saul couldn’t help but wonder if they were “Deluxe Cheddar” or “Totally Awesome Cheddar”. His guess was “Totally Awesome Cheddar”, since it had a cartoon jaguar playing an electric guitar on its bag.
The cart lurched into motion, and soon Saul could hear the sounds of various groceries being dropped into the cart.
After a few minutes of this, he heard a young man’s voice say “Sorry, that coupon has expired”, and he knew that they were in the checkout line. The penguin backpack and its contents (including him) shifted slightly as the milk carton the bag was leaning against was removed from the cart.
“Don’t forget your backpack, Winnie!” the little girl’s mother said.
A moment later, Saul felt how he was lifted from the cart and the backpack was slung over the little girl’s shoulder. And then he was bouncing gently against her back as they left the shop. It was a supremely satisfying feeling, knowing that he was being taken Home, that he had been Chosen – although technically he had “chosen” himself by hiding in the little girl’s backpack. But really, she had picked him first, before that mother of hers had talked her out of it.
Anyway, Saul enjoyed the warm feeling all through the stroll out to the parking lot, the car ride home and the bumpy climb up the stairs to Winnie’s room.
Then came the dizzying moment when the girl took the backpack off, opened it and shook the contents out onto her bed.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, wide-eyed, seeing Saul lying on her bed between the rock and the stuffed penguin. “The penguin chips!”
“Yes, it’s me!” Saul cried happily, before realizing, horrified, what he had just done. Potato chips had an unwritten rule against talking in front of humans.
“You can talk?” the girl exclaimed, staring. Then she clapped her hands gleefully and said again, “You can talk! That’s amazing! What a wonderful bag of chips!”
Saul beamed with pride and joy until Winnie’s face suddenly fell.
“But oh,” the girl said, “we never paid for you. That means I have to bring you back to the store, doesn’t it?”
Should Saul …
Agree to be taken back to the store?
Help Winnie find a way to make money so she can go back and pay for him?
Agree to be taken back to the store?
“You’re right,” Saul said with a sigh. “You never paid for me, so taking me back to the store is the only right thing to do. It would be wrong of me to make you a thief.”
“But how can I get back to the store?” the girl said. “If I tell my mom that I have to bring you back, she’s going to think that I stole you, and then I’m going to get in trouble!”
At these words, Saul broke down and began to cry.
Winnie quickly picked him up and rocked him gently, as she might do with a baby doll. “It’s okay, Penguin Chips,” she said. “It’s going to be okay. Even if my mom thinks I stole you, she’ll probably just make me apologize and do extra chores or something. It will be fine.”
“Saul,” Saul said. “My name is Saul. But anyway, I’m just so sorry that I put you to all this trouble. I just wanted to get chosen and taken home – I wanted it so badly, and I didn’t think things through, and now …”
“It’s okay, Saul,” the girl said. “It’s really okay. It’s no trouble at all. Chores aren’t really that bad, and saying sorry at the store won’t hurt me, either. And I’m sure someone is going to choose you. After all, look at that nice penguin on your bag – and that funny man in the white suit feeding it a chip.”
“That’s Emperor Bob,” Saul sniffled. “He’s the one who started the company that made me. He’s also the one that came up with all the chip recipes. Though I don’t know why he came up with lousy-tasting salt and vinegar chips like me, that nobody wants.”
“Oh no, Saul,” Winnie said, patting him gently, “I’m sure someone will want you. Let me just go tell my mom we need to go back to the store, and we’ll have you back on the shelf in no time.” Still cradling Saul, she hurried out of the room and down the stairs.
Saul wasn’t so sure that anyone was going to choose him – in fact, quite the opposite. But he couldn’t let Winnie get herself in trouble for his sake. When they arrived down in the kitchen, where the woman was putting the groceries away, Saul once again broke the unwritten rule of chip bags.
“Hi Winnie’s Mom,” he said. “Winnie didn’t steal me from the store. I stole myself.”
To the mother’s credit, she only screamed for a few seconds. And after a few minutes and a freshly boiled cup of tea, her daughter was able to calm her down enough to discuss the matter rationally.
“So you see, Mom,” she said at last, “we have to bring Saul back to the store.”
“I, well, um … I don’t know,” the mother said. “It just seems like, well … This is complicated. If it were a normal bag of chips, I would agree with you. But since this one can talk …”
“Oh, all bags of chips can talk,” Saul chimed in helpfully. “It’s just that we usually don’t around humans. We don’t want to disturb them, you see.”
“I … I see,” the mother said weakly. She took a long sip of her tea with a trembling hand. “Anyway,” she went on, putting her teacup down, “I don’t think we can return a talking bag of chips to the store.”
“But what if he promises not to talk when we do it?” Winnie asked. “And what if we buy him right back as soon as they put him on the shelf?”
And so that is what they did. The girl and her mother brought Saul back to the grocery store, where the mother apologetically explained that he had somehow ended up with their groceries even though they hadn’t paid for him. And as soon as he was reshelved, Winnie happily skipped over to the chip aisle and pulled him down from the shelf. They brought him home again (after paying for him this time), and from that day on he was part of their family. Winnie made him a little bed with a warm home-made blanket decorated with penguins, and he got to join her and her mom for meals and movie nights, and he even got to go to school with Winnie!
It turned out that he had a real knack for mathematics, and soon he was able to skip several grades and become the youngest bag of chips to ever get accepted into Havard. But he only did online classes there, because he loved living with Winnie and her mom so much.
THE END
Help Winnie find a way to make money?
“Do you have any marketable skills?” Saul asked.
Winnie looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”
“Are you good at anything that people might pay you to do? If we’re going to pay for me, we need to find a way to make four dollars.”
Winnie considered. “Well,” she said finally, “I know a lot about penguins. For example, did you know that when a male penguin wants to have penguin babies with a female, he’ll give her the best smooth pebble he can find as an engagement ring?”
“That’s … adorable,” Saul said. “In fact, that’s so adorable that I might be willing to pay ten cents for that piece of information, if I had any money.”
And so it was decided: they were going to open up a Penguin Facts Stand. Winnie told her mom about the idea (though she did not mention the part about the talking bag of chips she needed to pay four dollars for), and her mom agreed to let her borrow a little table and to buy her a white tablecloth and some markers so she could draw penguins on it, two stuffed penguins as decorations and a small, working cash register. She also got a new ink cartridge for the printer so that Winnie could print out a sign that said, “Penguin facts: ten cents each.” All in all, the setup cost about two hundred and thirty dollars, but Winnie’s mom figured it was worth it if it got her daughter excited about using her penguin facts, doing some math and staying away from screens for a while.
Winnie and her mom set up the Penguin Facts Stand on the sidewalk in front of the house, and Saul sat with Winnie at the table while Winnie’s mom kept a watchful eye on the proceedings from the porch. Well, theoretically she was keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings. In practice, this was a bit hard, since she needed both eyes to play candy crush on the iPad.
Soon enough Winnie and Saul’s first customer came along: a little old lady with a wide-brimmed hat covered in flowers. “Penguin facts: ten cents each,” she read off the sign. “Do you mean to tell me that one can make money selling penguin facts?”
“Oh yes,” Winnie said. “People love penguin facts! For example, did you know that penguins can walk up to 60 miles to get to their breeding grounds?”
The woman smiled. “I won’t deny that you’ve given me a marvelous fact,” she said. “But, poor child, I’m afraid you’ve given it to me for free.”
“You could pay me for it if you’d like,” Winnie informed her helpfully.
“I could,” the little old lady said, “or I could teach you a lesson about economics.”
“I like lessons!” Winnie said cheerfully.
“I’m glad to hear that, dearie,” the woman said. “But you’re not going to like this one.” With that said, she hurried away.
A few minutes later, she was back with a large white moving van. A couple of men helped her unload a bunch of furniture and other stuff, and as Winnie watched, the woman set up a little outdoor café right next to her Penguin Facts Stand. It was a really lovely setup, and it even had a neon sign that read: “Penguin facts: nine cents each.”
Soon all the passersby who would have been Winnie’s customers were going to the little old lady’s penguin facts café instead. And the worst part was that she only had one fact – the one that she had gotten from Winnie, which she kept repeating for her customers. And when they gave her a dime for it, she kept saying, “Sorry, I don’t have any change – I hope you don’t mind …”
As the afternoon went on and Winnie got sadder and sadder, Saul realized that he was going to have to do something about this.
Should he …
Urge Winnie to lower her prices?
Go give the little old lady a talking to?
Urge Winnie to lower her prices?
“She’s only beating us because her facts are cheaper,” Saul pointed out.
“But her café is also a lot nicer than our stand,” Winnie said glumly.
“Nonsense,” Saul said. “That’s just style, not substance. You have more and better penguin facts. Real lovers of penguin facts will come to you, as long as we can set a competitive price.”
His words were followed by the sudden sound of clapping as a passerby – a young man dressed in an “I love puppets” T-shirt – applauded. “What an amazing performance of ventriloquism!” he said. “It looked just like you made that bag of chips talk!” With that said, he handed Winnie a whole dollar bill.
Winnie stared at the money in amazement. “Would you like ninety cents in change and a penguin fact?” she asked. Then, remembering that she had to lower her prices, she said, “I mean, would you like ninety-two cents in change and a penguin fact?”
“No change necessary,” the man said, waving his hand dismissively. “But if you can make the bag of chips say the penguin fact, then I’ll be happy to pay you another dollar.”
Winnie looked at Saul. “Do you know any penguin facts?” she asked.
Saul’s mind raced. “Well, the penguin on the front of my bag is eating a delicious Homestyle Salt and Vinegar Potato chip,” he began. Then, remembering what Winnie had told him earlier, “Oh! Male penguins give pebbles to female penguins sometimes!”
The man clapped his hands again and gave Winnie another dollar. Then he raised his voice and shouted, “Hey everyone! Come get a load of this little girl’s ventriloquism act! It really is something else!”
Customers came streaming to the Penguin Facts Stand to see Winnie make the bag of chips talk, and by the end of the day, after three hours of hard work and hilarity, Winnie and Saul found that they had made seventeen whole dollars, which was more than ten times as much as the Penguin Facts Café had made.
“I have to hand it to you, little girl,” the little old woman said after turning off her sign. “You really learned a lesson in economics. But now I’m going to teach you another one.”
Her hand shot out and she grabbed Saul. “The talking bag of chips is mine now! All mine!” she crowed, fleeing the scene.
“But I’m salt and vinegar,” Saul pointed out.
“Oh.” The woman stopped and checked the front of his bag. “Yuck,” she said before dropping him on the sidewalk and continuing on her way.
Winnie came over and picked Saul up and brought him home just in time for dinner. “After dinner,” she said, “I’ll ask my mom to bring me back to the store so I can pay for you. And then I’ll get to keep you!”
“Yay!” Saul cried.
And that is the story of how Winnie and Saul’s famous Penguin Facts and Ventriloquism Stand got its start.
THE END
Give the little old lady a talking to?
Saul jumped down from the table and waddled over to the little old lady’s penguin facts café. “Excuse me,” he said, leaping up onto the counter, “but trying to put a sweet little girl out of business by stealing her penguin fact is wildly inappropriate.”
The little old lady’s jaw dropped. “Are you … did you … I must be dreaming.” She pinched herself.
“This is no dream,” Saul assured her. “Now, if you have any decency, please pack up your penguin facts café and get out of this area so that my friend can sell her penguin facts in peace … or at least accept her as a full business partner and give her sixty percent of the profits, since you got your one penguin fact from her.”
“Forty percent,” the woman shot back. “And she has to give me more penguin facts whenever I ask for them.”
“Fifty percent,” Saul countered. “And she’ll give you two new penguin facts a week. And you have to change the name of your business to ‘Winnie’s Penguin Facts Café’.”
“Can I use a cartoon picture of the girl as a mascot?” the woman asked.
“As long as it’s tastefully done, and she and her mother say it’s all right,” Saul said.
After about ten minutes of negotiations, they had settled on a deal, and the woman packed up her café and went home to make some changes.
The next day, she returned with a slightly larger, even more charming café. Her new sign had a cartoon picture of a grinning little girl with a penguin backpack and the words, “Winnie’s Penguin Facts Café”.
With the little old lady working at the café, Winnie was free to take care of the business side of things. Within a week, six other franchises were opened in different parts of town, and by the end of the month, Winnie’s chain of penguin facts cafés had spread all the way to Canada!
Since Winnie made fifty percent on every penguin fact sold, she quickly became a very rich little girl. After two months of running her penguin facts café empire, she had twelve whole dollars! And so she was able to pay for Saul, and to have eight dollars left over to buy a new stuffed penguin. Which is a bit on the expensive side, if you ask me.
THE END
Tell the young man to take him to the pickle aisle?
“Excuse me,” Saul said, “but I don’t suppose you could take me to the pickle aisle instead? You see, I’ve realized that people who like chips don’t seem to like me, but people who like pickles just might, so if I can find a way to count as a pickle, then maybe I’ll be accepted.”
The young man stared at him. “Could you please not talk?” he said. “It kind of stresses me out, since it’s not supposed to happen and I would rather not have to think that I’m going crazy.”
“I’ll stop talking if you bring me to the pickle aisle,” Saul said.
The young man agreed, and soon Saul was in the pickle aisle, facing the Council of Pickles. Apparently, becoming a pickle wasn’t something that one could just do – a bunch of sour-looking jars of various vegetables in brine had to make the decision.
Saul found himself surrounded by jars of pickle spears as the councilmembers – a jar of whole garlic pickles, a jar of hamburger dill chips (that is, small pickle slices) and a jar of kimchi – looked down at him from their shelves.
“Now tell us,” the jar of whole garlic pickles said. “Why should we accept you as a pickle?”
Saul thought back to what the little girl’s mother had said. “Well, I’m sour and salty,” he said. “If you think about it, I’m basically just like you, but made with potato instead of cucumber. And dried out a bit.”
“Like me?” the garlic pickles sneered. “Like me? You’re nothing like me!”
“Well, like him, then,” Saul said, pointing at the jar of hamburger dill chips with the corner of his bag. “See? His cucumbers are cut in slices just like my potatoes. And he’s even called ‘chips’.”
“Enough!” the jar of whole garlic pickles roared. “If you believe that you truly are worthy of bearing the name ‘pickle’, then you must be put to the test. Choose now. You may face a Test of Four, in which you will have to defeat three other groceries hoping to be accepted as pickles, or you may choose Trial by Raccoon!”
When he said “Trial by Raccoon”, the jar of kimchi gasped and looked like she was about to fall off her shelf.
Should Saul …
Choose Trial by Raccoon?
Saul considered. He had once seen a cartoon raccoon on a box of cereal in a shopping cart, and it had looked cute and harmless enough, with its French beret on its head and its umbrella in its little paw. But having to compete against three other unknown groceries could be downright dangerous. Imagine if one of them was a spiky pineapple, or a tin of extra spicy chili sardines, or one of those gigantic bags of sunflower seeds?
“I choose Trial by Raccoon!” he announced.
The kimchi let out a small cry of horror.
“Very well,” the jar of whole garlic pickles said. “You have chosen Trial by Raccoon, and Trial by Raccoon you shall have! Take him to the dumpster!”
“The dumpster?” Saul said, horrified. “But that’s exactly where I didn’t want to go!”
His pleas were ignored. As the whole garlic pickles’ sinister laughter echoed in his chip baggy ears, the jars of dill spears escorted him roughly towards the back door of the grocery store. As they forced him along, one of the guards explained.
“The raccoons love to come and raid the dumpster at night,” he said. “And raccoons will eat anything – but not a pickle. So if the raccoons eat you, then you’re not a pickle.”
“And if they don’t eat me, then I am a pickle?” Saul asked hopefully.
“Sure, why not?” the guard said. “Now hurry up – we don’t have all day, and we don’t want to get seen by any customers.”
Poked in the back by a metal lid, Saul quickened his pace, waddling across the floor towards the back door. There were a few customers around, but thankfully, humans never notice anything.
They reached the back door, and the jars of dill spears jumped on each other’s lids and former a tower of jars so they could get at the doorknob.
“So,” Saul said as they made their exit, “if I pass this test, will you come get me and bring me back to the pickle aisle?”
An uncomfortable silence followed. “That kind of thing is up to the council to decide,” one of the guards finally said. “We’re just simple spears, doing our duty.”
They approached the dumpster and formed another tower, this time with Saul on top. Once he was up at about the height of the dumpster’s lip, they tossed him inside, where he landed among a bunch of crumpled up newspapers.
“Will you at least remind the council that I’m here?” he shouted, but the only answer he received was the lid of the dumpster closing, leaving him in darkness.
Unfortunately – or maybe fortunately – the dumpster contained no other talking groceries, just packaging and rotting vegetables and things like that. So Saul was left alone with his thoughts for a very long time, and as he waited in the darkness for a raccoon to come and either eat him or not eat him, he began to regret trying to become a pickle. Had it really been that bad, sitting on his fourth-story shelf and watching the shoppers go by?
After what seemed like an eternity, the edge of the lid lifted slightly, letting some light in. It also let a rather large raccoon in. Saul saw the terrifying creature framed in the glow of a streetlamp for a moment. It was much bigger than he had expected. Then it jumped down beside him and the lid closed, leaving them in darkness.
“So,” the raccoon said, “a bag of potato chips. I see they’ve finally tossed some of the good stuff again. You know, ever since they started that scheme where they donate expiring items to the food pantry, this dumpster has been a bit boring. It’s been ages since I’ve had some good potato chips.”
“Ummm, I’m a pickle?” Saul tried.
The raccoon laughed. “Well, you may as well be. Emperor Bob’s Homestyle Salt and Vinegar chips. I saw your label when I opened the dumpster. I’ll bet you’ll be as sour as anything. But still, I think I could fight through the sourness for the sake of that delectable salty crunch. I love potato chips. And Emperor Bob brand? That’s quality.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any way I could convince you not to eat me?” Saul pleaded. “I really need you not to do it so I can be accepted as a pickle.”
“And why do you want to be accepted as a pickle?” the raccoon asked.
Saul responded by telling him the whole sad tale of how shoppers never chose him and how the other chips always made fun of him.
“That’s a tear jerker of a story, I’ll give you that,” the raccoon said when he had finished. “Tell you what – why don’t we settle this with a riddle contest? If you can guess the answer to my riddle in one guess, I won’t eat you. If you can’t guess the answer, I will eat you. Does that sound fair?”
Honestly, it did not, but since Saul had no other choice, he agreed to it.
“All right, then,” the raccoon said, “here’s my riddle.” He cleared his throat. “What’s black and white and red all over?”
Saul thought long and hard, trying to remember all the groceries he had ever seen in shopping carts and all the creatures he had ever seen on their packaging. He shifted uncomfortably among the crumpled-up newspapers as he thought.
“Well?” the raccoon said after a moment. “Time’s up! So, what’s your answer? What’s black and white and red all over?”
Should Saul answer …
An orca whale covered in strawberry jam?
A newspaper?
“A newspaper!” Saul answered. “The answer must be a newspaper!”
“Wrong!” the raccoon said gleefully. “Now I get to eat you!”
“But it must be a newspaper!” Saul protested. “Or at least, a newspaper is a correct answer. It’s white, with black lettering all over, and people read every page, so it’s read all over.”
“I’m sure that people don’t read every page,” the raccoon replied. “They probably skip the boring bits and just look at the weather and the advertisements for mayonnaise and things like that. And anyway, I said ‘red’ like the color red, not ‘read’ like the past tense of ‘to read’!”
“Oh, come on!” Saul said. “Can’t you let me win just this once? It would mean so much to me!”
“Let me think about it,” the raccoon said. Then, after a moment, “No. Now get ready to be eaten.”
Saul sighed. Getting eaten wasn’t really the worst thing for him, since that’s what bags of chips are for, but it seemed like such a shame that he was going to get devoured by a wild animal and not by some human family that would really appreciate him. And the fact that he would never be accepted as a pickle was also kind of a downer.
At that moment, light flooded the dumpster as the lid was pulled back. The raccoon fled, jumping out of the dumpster and disappearing into the night.
Saul stared up at the figure who had rescued him. It was an old man with a white beard and a fancy white suit. One somewhat wrinkled hand held the lid of the dumpster, while the other, resting on the lip of the dumpster, held a cane topped with a small gold-colored crown.
“Emperor Bob!” Saul breathed.
“Could it be?” the founder of Emperor Bob’s Chips, the designer of Saul’s recipe, the one whose image he wore on his chippy heart, said. “Have I found the very last bag of Homestyle Salt and Vinegar Chips?”
Saul’s creator spoke the words with the wonder and joy of a man who had just found a lost treasure.
All thought of protesting that he was really a bag of pickles went out of Saul’s head immediately. “It’s me, Emperor Bob!” he cried. “I’m here!”
“I’ve been looking for you,” the emperor said. “And now I have found you. My wife will be so pleased. You’re her favorite kind, you know. I came up with your recipe just for her … well, and for me, to be honest. The perfect balance of salt and sour. But you’ve been out of stock in stores, and I was worried that … well, none of those worries matter now. Here you are. The perfect fortieth anniversary present for my beloved wife.”
With that said, Emperor Bob leaned his cane against the dumpster and climbed into the dirty darkness to retrieve his creation.
As Saul was lifted from among the trash by the hand of his maker and lovingly brought out into the light of the parking lot, it occurred to him that there were far worse things to be than a bag of Emperor Bob’s Homestyle Salt and Vinegar Potato Chips.
THE END
An orca whale covered in strawberry jam?
Saul thought of all the black and white creatures he had ever seen on the packages of groceries, and his thoughts landed on a jar of Orca brand salsa he had once seen, with its cheerful cartoon orca whale eating a taco. But red, too. What was red? Well, salsa would be too obvious …
“An orca whale covered in strawberry jam!” he said at last.
“What?” the raccoon said. “How did you … No, that’s impossible! How could you have possibly guessed that?”
Saul shrugged. “You learn a thing or two, studying the groceries people wheel around in their shopping carts,” he said.
The raccoon sighed. “All right,” he said. “You guessed correctly, so I suppose I’m going to have to let you go.”
“Could you help me out of the dumpster and let me back into the grocery story?” Saul asked.
“I don’t see why not,” the raccoon said. “After all, you did win fair and square.”
A few minutes later, Saul was back inside the grocery store, waddling over to the pickle aisle. There were not a lot of shoppers left, as it was quite late, and those who were there didn’t notice him. Humans never notice anything.
“I made it!” he announced as he arrived at the pickle aisle. “The raccoon didn’t eat me! I’m a pickle now!”
The pickles stared at him. “You’re back?” the jar of whole garlic pickles said incredulously.
“Yes!” Saul said. “The raccoon didn’t eat me!”
“What, well … prove it,” the whole garlic pickles demanded.
“Garth, he’s back,” the kimchi said. “Isn’t that proof enough?”
“Yes,” the jar of hamburger dill chips chimed in, “you’re not planning on going back on your word, are you? That would turn the council into a joke!”
The jar of whole garlic pickles groaned. “Very well,” he said. “You’re a pickle now. There’s some space for you there on the bottom shelf.”
Saul eagerly climbed into his new spot.
He quickly found that being a pickle was very similar to being a bag of salt and vinegar chips. He sat on a shelf, watching people go by, and occasionally, the jar of whole garlic pickles said something mean to him. The biggest difference seemed to be that he could only look at people’s feet, not at all the interesting things in their shopping carts, and there were a lot fewer customers who came here. Even considering the fact that it was so late.
But, a few minutes before closing time, a little boy who was almost certainly up past his bedtime noticed Saul on the bottom shelf. “Look, Daddy!” he said, crouching down and peering right at Saul. “A bag of potato chips!”
“Someone must have put them there by mistake,” his father said. He picked Saul up and put him in the shopping cart, and for a moment, Saul felt the warm joy of a bag of potato chips that had been chosen. But then the father said, “come on, let’s bring these chips back to the snack aisle,” and Saul’s chippy heart sank.
Soon enough he was back on his old shelf, to the mocking delight of the chip bags around him. And the next day, the day of his sell-by date, a worker took him from the shelf and brought him out back.
But instead of being thrown in the dumpster, Saul was donated to the food pantry, where he was picked up by an old fisherman who had the most delightful stories to tell. But those are stories for another day.
THE END
Test of Four?
Saul didn’t know what “Trial by Raccoon” was, and judging by the kimchi’s reaction, he didn’t want to know. “Let’s go with a test of four,” he said.
“Very well,” said the jar of whole garlic pickles. “Bring the other applicants!”
Some of the jars of pickle spears marched off to the end of the aisle. Soon they returned, escorting two bags of chips and a loaf of bread. One of the bags was labeled “Dill pickle chips”, and the other was labeled, “Cheeseburger chips”. The bread was in one of those unlabeled, fancy bags that they put fresh-baked bread in, a brown paper bag that was open at one end.
“Do you want to be a pickle?” Saul said, staring at the bread. He had always thought of fresh bread as a very popular grocery item. Why would she want to change?
The bread snorted. “I’ve got more right to be here than any of you bags of chips,” she said. “I’m pickle bread. Made with real pickles. So I’m undeniably a pickle. It’s in my name – and in my ingredients.”
The bag of dill pickle chips shook his head. “You’ve got little pieces of pickle in you,” he said. “But you’re mostly just bread. I’m pickle all over!”
Saul looked at the cheeseburger flavored potato chips. Cheeseburger was an unusual flavor. He could understand why she would want to change. But how did she expect to be accepted as a pickle? He didn’t see the connection.
The bag of cheeseburger chips noticed his look. “I’m just like him,” she said, nodding at the jar of hamburger dill chips up on the shelf.
“Silence!” the jar of whole garlic pickles cried. “The Test of Four is about to begin! There can only be one winner, who will then be accepted as a true pickle! The others – if they survive – will be forcibly returned to their proper shelves. And now … Begin!”
Saul looked at the three other contestants, unsure of what he was supposed to go. “Umm, what exactly …” he began, but the jar of whole garlic pickles interrupted him by shouting, “Silence! The Test of Four has begun!”
Should Saul …
Try wrestling the others to the ground?
Bust out his best dance moves?
Try wrestling the others to the ground?
Saul grabbed the closest opponent – the bag of dill pickle chips – and pushed him down onto the ground.
“Ow!” the Dill pickle chips said. “That was really mean!”
“Yeah,” the jar of hamburger dill slices said from up on his shelf. “That actually was pretty mean. You’re disqualified. Take him back to his shelf!”
A trio of dill spear jars marched over to Saul, picked him up and carried him off. “But I didn’t mean to be mean!” he cried. “I was just trying to win! I just wanted to fit in, to be one of you!”
“That’s no excuse for being mean!” the jar of hamburger dill slices called after him.
Soon enough, Saul was back on his fourth-story shelf in the snack aisle, to the amusement of the other bags of chips.
“Look who’s back!” a bag of waffle-cut sour cream and onion chips said. “I guess even the pickles thought you were too sour!”
Saul didn’t answer. He just sat on his shelf, looking down at the floor and trying to ignore the unkind words of the others.
The sound of footsteps at the end of the aisle made him look up, and he gasped as he saw a white-clad figure approaching.
This particular shopper was a somewhat short but very majestic-looking old man with a white beard, a fancy white suit and a cane topped with a little golden crown. The very same figure whose image Saul had over his chippy heart, feeding a chip to a cartoon penguin. This was the founder of the company that had produced Saul’s brand of chips – the man who had personally come up with Saul’s recipe.
“Emperor Bob!” Saul breathed.
The majestic figure almost seemed to glow under the grocery store’s fluorescent lights as he approached and then suddenly stopped right in front of Saul. “There you are!” he exclaimed with all the excitement of a man finding a lost treasure. “The very last bag of homestyle salt and vinegar chips, by the looks of it – and well-ripened, too,” he added after checking Saul’s “sell by” date. “Just the way my wife likes her chips. She’ll be thrilled. As am I. This really is going to be the best fortieth anniversary we’ve ever had.”
With that said, he lifted Saul down from the shelf, hugged him close to his chest, and carried him off, toward home and the anniversary celebration.
As Saul left the snack aisle, with all its troubles and humiliations and all its memories of shoppers and their interesting groceries, it struck him that all of those things suddenly seemed very small and unimportant. Even the failure and humiliation he had suffered at the hands of the pickles was hardly worth thinking back on. In the arms of his joyful creator, he finally realized what he really was, what he had been made to be: a beloved treasure.
THE END
Bust out his best dance moves?
Unsure of what the Test of Four was actually supposed to be about, Saul began dancing with all his might. He skipped and twirled, grooved and bobbed from side to side, and he jumped up and down.
“He’s doing it!” one of the jars of dill spears cried. “He’s bouncing!”
“Only a true pickle bounces!” the jar of hamburger dill chips announced.
“True pickle, true pickle,” the jars of dill spears began chanting.
“But that’s not fair!” the pickle bread complained. “That’s not even true! There’s lots of things that aren’t pickles that bounce!”
“Silence!” the jar of whole dill pickles roared. “Take her away! And the other non-pickles as well!”
Half of the dill spear guards grabbed the pickle bread, the bag of dill pickle potato chips and the bag of cheeseburger chips and took them away. The other half surrounded Saul, chanting, “True pickle, true pickle!”
Saul continued to bounce up and down triumphantly. He had done it! He had become a true pickle!
Once the chanting came to a stop, the jar of whole garlic pickles personally showed him to his new spot, between a jar of pickled okra and a jar of pickled eggs on the bottom shelf. His new spot did not have quite as good a view as his fourth-story shelf back in the snack aisle, he realized. And his new neighbors weren’t really that nice to him, either.
However, he did get picked up from the shelf the very next day. Unfortunately, it was not by a shopper but by a worker who noticed that he was in the wrong spot. When the young woman checked his sell-by date on the way to the snack aisle, she changed her mind and brought him out back instead. But he didn’t get thrown into the dumpster. Instead, he was donated to the local food pantry, where he was picked up by a pleasant old lady who needed his help to get her pet frog down from the roof. The little amphibian had just stolen the world’s third-largest ruby and was hopping around on the roof with the precious gemstone in his mouth. But that’s a story for another day.
THE END
Run away to the pickle aisle?
“Here we have a family that doesn’t want salt and vinegar chips,” Saul thought to himself. “And yet they still buy pickles! What’s the use in being a bag of chips that nobody wants, if I could be just as sour, call myself a pickle, and get chosen and brought home anyway?”
Meanwhile, the girl and her mother settled on a bag of cheddar chips and left the aisle. Once they were gone, Saul jumped down from his shelf. It was a rough landing, and some of the other chips laughed at him, but he ignored them and waddled off to find the pickle aisle.
Thankfully, all the aisles in the grocery store were labeled with helpful signs, and though there were plenty of shoppers wandering around, none of them noticed him crossing the floor. Humans never notice anything.
Soon Saul was in the pickle aisle, facing the Council of Pickles. Apparently, becoming a pickle was something that one couldn’t just do – a bunch of sour-looking jars of various vegetables in brine had to make the decision.
Saul found himself surrounded by jars of pickle spears as the councilmembers – a jar of whole garlic pickles, a jar of hamburger dill chips (that is, small pickle slices) and a jar of kimchi – looked down at him from their shelves.
“Now tell us,” the jar of whole garlic pickles said, “why should we accept you as a pickle?”
Saul thought back to what the little girl’s mother had said. “Well, I’m sour and salty,” he said. “If you think about it, I’m basically just like you, but made with potato instead of cucumber. And dried out a bit.”
“Like me?” the garlic pickles sneered. “Like me? You’re nothing like me!”
“Well, like him, then,” Saul said, pointing at the jar of hamburger dill chips with the corner of his bag. “See? His cucumbers are cut in slices just like my potatoes. And he’s even called ‘chips’.”
“Enough!” the jar of whole garlic pickles roared. “If you believe that you truly are worthy of bearing the name “pickle”, then you must be put to the test. Choose now. You may face a Test of Four, in which you will have to defeat three other groceries hoping to be accepted as pickles, or you may choose Trial by Raccoon!”
When he said “Trial by Raccoon”, the jar of kimchi gasped and looked like she was about to fall off her shelf.
Should Saul …
Trolyrien 