Rusty's Armory

The Ballad of the 3 am Pickle: A Tale of Midnight Munchies

Posted on May 15, 2024

Let’s face it, 3 am is a weird time. Most decent people are tucked under their covers, counting sheep (or battling sleep paralysis, no judgment). Me? Well, I was engaged in a heated negotiation with my stomach, which apparently had a very specific agenda for the night: pickles.

The Ballad of the 3 am Pickle (and the Chatty Corn Flakes)

“Pickle!” it declared, its voice echoing dramatically in the 3 am silence. My mind, still clinging to the remnants of sleep, mumbled a feeble, “Go back to sleep, it’s the witching hour!” But hunger, it seems, has no respect for time zones or spooky vibes.

Ten minutes later, the Pickle Monster roared again, this time accompanied by a symphony of stomach growls that could wake the dead. Clearly, negotiation was futile. Frigid air be damned, I stumbled towards the kitchen, on a mission to appease the Pickle Overlord.

The fridge light revealed a meager offering of burger chips, but then – a beacon of hope! A shiny new jar of gherkins, practically begging to be devoured. Who placed these magical morsels here? A roommate with impeccable timing, or perhaps a sleep-deprived pickle fairy? Whatever the source, they were mine now.

Armed with chopsticks (because who wants to get their fingers all vinegary at 3 am?), I dug in. The satisfying crunch, the electrifying pucker – it was a symphony for the senses (at least, my taste buds seemed to think so). Half a jar later, I was a blissful, pickle-fueled mess. A quick water refill, a snuggle under my toasty electric blanket (seriously, those things are a lifesaver), and I was off to dreamland once more.

But wait, there’s more! Just as I was about to drift off to a dill-icious slumber, a new voice chimed in from the darkness. “Corn Flakes,” it declared, with a firmness that would put a drill sergeant to shame. I looked over at the clock – 4:15 am? Seriously, breakfast?

“Don’t start that now!” I pleaded, burrowing deeper under the covers. But the Corn Flake Chorus wasn’t having any of it. With a sigh of defeat, I surrendered to the breakfast gods and sleepwalked my way to a bowl of cereal.

Now, by this point, you might be wondering what kind of sleep-deprived fever dream this is. Well, let me tell you, it’s just another Tuesday in the wonderful world of me. At least the corn flakes weren’t pickles, right?

P.S. My 6 am appointment with reality (and medication) was…interesting. But hey, that’s a story for another day. Until then, happy snacking (and sleeping…hopefully)!