8thdayfiction

…and on the 8th day, micro fiction was published on some dude's blog.

Mrs. Pickelbottum’s

Jay and Seth found a booth and had a seat.

“You’re gonna love this place. Best burgers in the world, I swear. They’re off the charts. And that Fixins Bar, is that not something? There’s, like, every condiment on earth!”

Jay picked up his burger and took a huge bite. Seth followed suit…and immediately grabbed a napkin and spit it back out. He instantly felt nauseated; whatever it was he’d just put in his mouth, it did not taste like a burger. Or food, for that matter.

Jay noticed his stricken look right away. “What’s up? You don’t like it? Is it not done enough, ’cause they’ll take it back and…oh. Wait. Did you happen to put that Mrs. Pickelbottum’s sauce on yours?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Oh man–you NEVER want to use that stuff. Did you read the label?”

“Sorta. It just looked like some kind of German mustard or something. Why?”

“Go back and look at the label again. Closely.”

Seth took a big sip of his milkshake to try and wash the awful taste out of his mouth (it didn’t help), and headed back to the condiment bar.

He found the bottle, turned the label towards him, and read:

MRS. PICKELBOTTUM’S
ORIGINAL
OLD-FASHIONED CRAPPENING SAUCE
since 1857
for beef, pork, poultry, fish
Adds that special crap flavor to burgers!

And below that, the smiling, matronly cartoon head of Mrs. Pickelbottum herself, with a speech balloon rising from her mouth which read:

 “If it ain’t Pickelbottum’s,
it ain’t CRAP!”

Well, that explains it, thought Seth, and he headed back up front to order another burger.

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4 thoughts on “Mrs. Pickelbottum’s

  1. Eww and yuck. But very nice use of believable and nicely written dialogue–thumbs up!

  2. Melissa Shirley on said:

    We call my son Mr. Picklebottom! Different spelling–she must be from the Old Country…..

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