Truce?

Dear Pickles,

After playing hard-to-get for upwards of 25 years, I have decided that perhaps we can get to know each other.* Over the past few weeks, you have convinced me that there are certain times and certain moments when your presence is acceptable. So we can begin this relationship, if you choose to operate within the perimeters I set for you. 

I. You are to continue being cut into spears and served on the side with things like Panera sandwiches or Saffire cheeseburgers. When you are presented to me in this way, where I can see you and choose whether or not to engage you, everything is fine.

II. You are not to surprise me. Being sliced into chips and sneaking under hamburger buns to be wilted by the heat of hamburger patties is unacceptable. You are to maintain your crunch and snap and stay where I can see you.

III. If you happen to find yourselves sliced up into chips, the only way to redeem yourself is to roll around in flour and cajun spices and then plunge yourself into a deep fryer for several minutes.

IV. Stay away from my hotdogs, my tuna and my potato salad.

V. All pickles outside these guidelines will be considered hostile, kept at arms length and be dealt with on a case-by-case basis.

Sincerely,

Juliette

*I know, college roommates, I know. No, I am not pregnant.  :)