The pickle on the counter

My daughter often commends me for my writing. Of course, we both know it helps that I always choose topics I am deeply passionate about... Yesterday, I wrote about Karma. 

"I love it, mom, I always love your writing, but if you want to challenge yourself as writer you should try writing about a topic that doesn't really move you. For example, a pickle on a counter top. If you can write about a pickle on a counter top and get people to enjoy it, then you know you're a good writer."

So here goes:

I didn't pay much attention at first. I was used to the sound of the door opening, the stark overhead light, the vacant stares. I  was used to the frenzy of grabbing hands. I had learned early on to accept the fact that most of the time, once something was "grabbed",  it wasn't coming back! That's the way it was, and for the most part, it just didn't matter. The cycle of "roommates" had become endless.....peaches, plums, berries, melons, lettuce, tomatoes, meats, cheeses, milks, and juices...they'd come, they'd go....and endless rotation.....here one day, gone the next.

But for me, well it was different. I was a senior member of this community; a condiment, (which in my mind put me in a totally different league).  Like my fellow condiments, the olives and peppers, I knew that I was not included in the cycle....I knew I could count on longevity. But, looking back, I shouldn't have been so cocky. 

She came out of nowhere, the little blond-haired girl with the spear, and while I noticed,  I chose to ignore her poking  around in my jar, even after my pickle friends began to disappear. After all, I believed I was special, different. So, with the classic, "It'll never happen to me" attitude, I watched complacently as she came and speared them one by one, til - POOF!- there was only me......

Now, as I lay here, clinging desperately to the granite counter top, I know that my time has finally come. Surrounded by a multitude of breads, meats and cheeses; my fate is clearly sealed....I am doomed.  I wish now, I wouldn't have been complacent, I wish now ......

Oh no.... here she comes, the blond girl, a gleam in her eye; a spear in her hand......  I've got to get awayyyyyy, I've got to......it's too late......here I goooooooooooooo. CRUNCH!!!