Late Night Snack
A Short Humor Story
By Amanda Lawrence Auverigne
I woke up at 1:00 in the morning and I was hungry. I decided to go to the kitchen and get a snack.
I went downstairs and I was walking to the kitchen. I stopped in front of the door when I heard some strange sounds coming from inside the room.
The kitchen was dark. And the noises coming from inside were loud. And weird.
There was weird grunting and whining. And then there was a loud bang before everything got quiet.
And then I heard this voice.
It said, “Come on and open for me. Come on.”
And then there was another grunt, a weird high pitched noise and a squeal.
The grunting and squealing got louder.
I waited by the door and listened.
Instead of being scared, I was actually intrigued by all of the sounds I was hearing, so I decided to go in.
I crept closer to the door and listened.
The squealing and grunting had stopped and it was quiet.
Then, I heard the voice again.
It said, “This has to work this time.”
There were more grunts.
And they sounded painful.
After hearing all of the noises, I decided to go into the kitchen and check it out.
So I walked into the dark kitchen and turned on the light.
The brightness of the light hurt my eyes and I cried out.
The voice started wailing.
I blinked a couple of times and looked around.
When my eyes finally adjusted to the light, I could see my little brother Stephen standing in front of the refrigerator.
His face was beet red and he did not look happy. He was blinking from the light and holding a jar of pickles. He was straining from the job of trying to open it.
“Stephen what are you doing?” I asked.
Stephen stopped blinking and he bit his lower lip. He held the jar tighter and twisted the cap.
There was this loud squeaking sound coming from the jar.
The lid stayed put. The jar did not open.
Stephen grunted. He twisted the lid again and said, “Hey sis. I can’t open this jar of pickles. And I really want some.”
I walked over to him and reached for the jar. “Give it to me and I’ll open it.”
“Okay,” Stephen said. He gave me the jar.
I went over to the sink and tapped the side of the jar against it. I raised the jar from the sink. I held it tight in my hand and tapped at the bottom with my palm.
“What are you doing Lynn? Is that some kind of weird pickle ritual?” Stephen asked.
“No,” I said. “It’s me getting this jar open for you.”
I stopped tapping the jar and grabbed the lid. I held the cap tight and twisted it.
The lid came off the jar with a loud pop.
“And here you go,” I said. I handed the jar to Stephen.
“Uh thanks and I could have done that,” Stephen said.
“Sure you could. Just come over here and get your pickles,” I said.
“Alright,” Stephen said.
Stephen walked over to me.
I shook the pickle jar.
The jar trembled in my hand.
“What the?” I said.
Stephen stopped in front of me. He looked at the jar.
“What is it?” He asked.
I looked up from the jar and said, “I don’t really know. This jar kind of like shook in my hand.”
Stephen laughed. He took the jar from me. He shoved his hand inside and took out a pickle.
“Sis you’ve been studying too hard for those SATs. You’re imagining things. There’s nothing wrong with these pickles,” Stephen said.
The pickle jar shook in Stephen’s hand. And all of the pickles inside of the jar popped up to the surface.
All of the pickles had little eyes. They were all looking at Stephen.
The pickles in the jar cheered and the one in Stephen’s hand spoke.
“Congratulations Stephen! Now you can eat us!” it said.
Stephen dropped the pickle and the jar.
The jar hit the floor and it broke.
There was this loud crash.
Pickles, juice and glass were all over the floor.
The pickles on the floor all wriggled and they said, “Awwwwwwww.”
Me and Stephen both screamed and we ran to the door.
We were trying to get out of the kitchen.
But we couldn’t get out of the room.
Dad was standing in the doorway.
He looked sleepy and mad.
“What are you two doing in here?” Dad asked.
“The pickles talked!” Stephen shouted.
“Yeah and they told us to eat them,” I said.
Dad came inside of the kitchen.
Me and Stephen moved out of his way.
Dad walked across the kitchen. He stopped near the sink. He looked at the broken glass and pickles on the floor.
Me and Stephen followed Dad. We stopped behind him.
“What is all of this?” Dad said. He turned around and looked at us. He frowned and said, “Lynn and Stephen. Both of you clean up this mess and get back to bed, Its almost 2:00 in the morning!”
“I’m scared of the pickles Dad,” Stephen said.
“Stephen you are thirteen years old!” Dad yelled. “What are you talking about?”
“The pickles. They were all happy before but I don’t know about now,” Stephen said.
“Dad don’t worry,” I said quickly. “I’ll clean it up.”
“Good. Your brother can help you,” Dad said.
Mom came into the kitchen. She yawned and said, “What’s going on?” She looked at the broken jar and pickles on the floor.
“What happened here?” Mom asked.
“The pickles talked,” Stephen said.
“Stephen stop this nonsense talk right now!” Dad shouted.
“Oh,” Mom said. “Pickles talking. Well that’s a problem.”
“Why?” I asked.
Mom looked at me and said, “Well I placed an Enchantment Spell on the chocolate cake I made last night but I guess it somehow got transferred to the pickles. Or maybe…”
Mom looked at the fridge.
We all looked at the fridge.
Mom walked to the fridge and she opened the door.
The refrigerator was filled with delicious food.
And it was all dancing and laughing on the shelves.
Veggies wriggled and giggled. Luncheon meat shook and laughed inside of their packages. A stalk of celery and a bunch of carrots danced a waltz on the top shelf. A loaf of bread was break dancing in the middle shelf. Bottles of juice and soda slid around the dancing vegetables. And a stick of butter sang a duet with a slice of bread.
Oh, and the chocolate cake that was sitting on the middle shelf was singing too.
“Oh dear,” Mom said. She closed the refrigerator quickly. She turned around and looked at us. “I guess the Enchantment Spell I tried on the Chocolate Cake after dinner affected the entire fridge. But don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”
We all looked at Mom.
Mom smiled and she clapped her hands, “Okay then. We should all get to bed but oh. There’s pickles all over the floor.”
“Mom I’ll clean it up,” I said.
“And I’ll help. I guess,” Stephen said.
“Fine,” Mom said. She walked to Dad and grabbed his arm. “Come on dear. Let’s get back to bed.”
Dad looked at Mom. His mouth was open.
Mom closed Dad’s mouth and she pulled him away from the kitchen.
“Well I guess we should get started,” I said.
“Yeah. I’ll get up the glass and pickles,” Stephen said.
“And I’ll help,” I said.
I grabbed the broom and bin.
Stephen grabbed a sponge, a bucket and a bottle of liquid cleaner.
We both moved to the mess and we looked at it.
The pickles were not moving anymore.
The kitchen was really quiet.
“Okay let’s do this quick,” I said.
“Yeah,” Stephen said. We cleaned up the broken glass and pickles quickly.
When we were done cleaning we walked to the door.
We both stopped and looked at the fridge.
I turned off the light.
Me and Stephen left the kitchen.
When we were in the hall, we both heard laughing coming from inside the kitchen.
Copyright © 2015 Amanda Lawrence Auverigne
All rights reserved.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental.This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 171 Second Street, Suite 300, San Francisco, California, 94105, USA.