Tickled By A Wickle

I love pickles. Years ago we planted cucumbers and I tried my hand at pickling. Well, it was less than successful, but not due to lack of effort.

Freezer pickles turned out to be easier, but not necessarily flavorful. After smelling of vinegar for weeks, I decided I could enjoy the talent of pickling from others.

One day, while standing in line at Cracker Barrel, waiting for a table, I noticed jars of pickles on their shelves. I commented to my husband that we should get a jar. The lady behind me said "You will love the wickles."

Thinking that she had a slight speech impediment, I didn't correct her and just smiled.

She went on further "You'll get hooked. You can't eat just one." She handed me a jar and winked.

Lo' and behold, she hadn't misprounced the word, they were labled "wickles." What in the world is a Wickle, you ask.

Checking with all knowing, all seeing Google, http://www.wickles.com/ I found out. Sims Foods Inc. used a recipe that had been in their family for 70 years, and created this sweet/hot concoction that IS truly addictive, IF you can get them from the jar to your mouth.

For some, it's probably a simple task. For the Alsobrooks, it became, sadly enough, a huge challenge.

That day, we eagerly brought our Wickle Jar home. Taking it from the package, we sat the glass - I emphasize glass - jar on the counter.

In a few minutes, I picked the jar up and held it to the light. "Look, Lynn, look at all the little seeds and seasonings...mmm this is gonna be good eatin' !"

Lynn turned around and misjudged the distance - really, it was all his fault - and he hit my arm with his arm and the jar flew from my hands. We both bent forward to grab it from the air and my head hit his head - well, if he'd only LOOKED - and then we both went backward on our rumps.

Meanwhile, the jar of Wickles had plans of it's own and it hit the floor just as we did - looking back it was probably possessed or something - and blammmm! It flew into a million cuzillion pieces and before I knew it Lynn had caused me to become covered in broken glass and wickle juice.

He had the audacity to blame me. Neither one of us moved for fear of ingesting...or worse, getting glass in our ..a aa .... ss .sss

Well, I wasn't moving. Lynn could just move first. He bumped me, he didn't catch the glass, he hit my head with his head, and the whole thing put us both at risk and he could just be the one to move first. I'm a patient person. I'll wait.

Only he didn't move first. "Well?" He said, expectantly.

"I can't reach the towels." I said sweetly, dripping in seeds and stickyjuice. I blinked. I looked at the shards of glass and dark green wickles. They were NOT as appealing as before. In fact I thought they were ugleeee.

Lynn stared at me. Wickle juice was dripping from his chin. He was not pretty. Pretending nothing was wrong I asked innocently, "And why did you buy this jar of Wickles, anyway?" There was just a tinge of "whine" to my voice.

"MEEEEEEE?" he said. Lynn slung his hands up and down and began to look for a clear spot on the floor. There was none. We sat.

"The towels are in the 3rd drawer on the left, dear." I was trying to be helpful, and even though I was very uncomfortable and sticky I kept a sweet look on my face and everything. Really, I did. But did Lynn respond in kind?

No. Instead he yelled "I know where the towels are!" He's soooo short-tempered. Sheeesh!

"Ok, dear, so ...?" I motioned towards the drawer. I smiled.

Lynn sighed and moved slowly toward the towel drawer. He grabbed a handful, and threw them on the floor and we used them to shield us from the broken glass as we got to our feet. He began to look a tiny bit better, actually. Kinda cute.

Tip-toeing to the sink, we washed our faces and hands. I looked at Lynn and said, "If you want, I'll go get another jar and you can sweep all this up." I smiled as I quickly ran out the front door.

Oddly enough, Lynn had the mess cleaned up when I got back. He's pretty smart.

If you don't count the wickles we found under the table, and in various other strange places, things looked pretty good.

I didn't mention the fact that Wickles were here and there to Lynn - nor that the floor was stickly, just in case it would offend him, with him being so sensitive and all.

So, to continue. And, I promise you that the next thing I'm about to say is completely true so help me, you know.

I placed the Wickle jar very carefully in the refrigerator as I thought there was probably nothing better than a cold Wickle.

About an hour later, Lynn wanted a sandwich.

"Why don't you try some of the Wickles, dear?" I was still trying to be sweet. Which Wickles aren't by the way. They are pepper-sweet-sticky-hot. But, I digress because as it turned out, I didn't discover the taste of them at that time.

Lynn sat the jar of Wickles again, carefully on the counter. The phone rang or something happened, I'm not sure what and he got distracted. So, when he came back into the kitchen to make his sandwich, he picked up the now wet due to condesation jar of Wickles....well, I can barely bring myself to say it...

You guessed it, they slid right out of his hand to the floor with a re-sounding crash that echoes in my ears to this very day. I will say that Lynn gave the "catch-a-flyin'-jar-of'-Wickles" the ol' college try.

Nevertheless they were all over the floor among millions and cuzillion pieces of broken glass, again. The Wickles were beginning to win. How many people does it take to open a jar of Wickles.

Our first jar of Wickles was now priced at $8.22. How bad does a person want to eat a Wickle?

Pretty bad, as I was now on a mission. This time the lady at the Cracker Barrel stared me. I stared back. Finally I said weakly "They're really good pickles."

"They must be." she said. Honestly some people are so strange.

I don't buy my Wickles there anymore. It's just too embarassing. I will also add, that the 3rd jar of Wickles stayed in the refrigerator for 2 weeks.

No one had the courage to touch them.

One day, when no one was home, I picked them up with a rubber jar opener just for added grip. Carefully, and bravely I opened the lid. The Wickle in my mouth had better be good.

It was heaven. Hot. Sweet. Spicy. Crunchy. Tender. Juicy. Flavorful. EXPENSIVE.

If you've not had a Wickle, you gotta. Just place a pillow on the floor by the counter before you open the jar, just in case it decides to fly.

I still say it was all Lynn's fault. But, we never talk about that battle with the Wickles. 32 years of marriage have taught me to leave some subjects alone. =)

P.S. We now buy Ketchup, jam, mustard, mayo and relish, in - you guessed it, plastic jars. Well, Just in case. Lynn is so clumsy!

The preceding story was printed without Lynn's permission.