I'm bringing piiiiickles.
One of my life's indulgences comes from the many hidden treasures I find outside my office every now and then.
From the tattered Cosby sweaters we find wrapped around our front gate to a mailbox full of flyers addressed to 'Robocop' (the tenant before us was a production studio that filmed the old Robocop TV series), the word "random" doesn't even do these delightful wonders justice.
Despite these bizarre findings, nothing could prepare me for what I discovered lying by our door this morning: a half full jar of dill fucking pickles.
Undoubtably, I was more than a little confused. While such an incident would leave most people asking themselves the 'who, what, when, where and why', here are my main concerns:
-When did a jarful of pickles become a popular recreational snack?
-If said item was truly delicious and snack-worthy, why would the owner merely eat a few of them, then abandon them by the doorway of a stranger's home?
-Am I to believe that this is, in fact, a gift from some kind of revolutionary snack crusader?
-And finally, would it be impolite to reject this supposed gift and not try at least one of these allegedly delicious pickles?
Well before I set off your gag reflex, I assure you that I did not help myself to a pickle. Instead, I merely moved them to the side of the door where they shall remain as a vivid reminder to my co-workers and I about this alarming new emergence of snack discrimination.
I urge you all to never reject a delicious pickle if one is ever offered your way.