Gary stared down the jar of pickles, its lid stubborn as a toddler at bedtime. He twisted, then twisted harder, muttering, “Come on, you overgrown tomato.” The jar didn’t budge. He slammed it against the counter, then tried again. Still no luck. Finally, he grabbed a butter knife, pried it open with a loud pop, and… nothing. The jar was empty. Just a note: “You cracked me open! – The Pickle” with a tiny smiley face. Gary stared, then laughed. “Oh, you’re dead.”
