Tickle My Pickle Book Novels & Stories

(like The Psychology of Power—kind of creepy, but curious. "Might Actually Read" (The Silent Struggle—mysterious and dramatic? Yes, please.) Pierce chuckled. "That one’s just a finance guide." I blinked at the cover, then shot him a look. "You guys really know how to catfish people with your book titles." As I finished dusting, I turned a bit too quickly and knocked into a crystal sculpture, nearly sending it to its doom. Pierce was on his feet instantly, catching it—and my wrist.

Or maybe I'd be the first person whose death was recorded. Using the tic tac toe game, my hands settled on a semi large bookshelf on the left side of the room. In the row, I could count at least five bookshelves as far as my eyes could see. Settling on the second shelf, I picked the first book my hand came in contact with. It was really old, that I could tell from the book jacket. I scratched out some mildew at the sides of the book and suppressed a shudder. It wasn't heavy and the title had faded leaving only the words fantasy tales visible. I guess it could pass a fairytale but there was no way I could confirm without reading through it first.

I pick it up and begin thumbing through it. "Hey, babe, what do you think of this?" I show the front to Tiffany as she rounds the corner. "What is it?" "It's called Peanut's Wish." I flip through some of the pages. "It looks it's about a baby who can't wait to be born, or… I don't know. It sounds weird when I say that. It looks cute though."

I pulled both out and set them on the counter. I stared at them for a second. I had never tried anything like this before and had no idea if it would even taste decent, but right now my body was screaming for it. My stomach growled loudly again. I opened the jar of pickles and the tub of ice cream, then dipped one crisp pickle straight into the cold, creamy ice cream. I brought it to my mouth, bracing myself for a horrible taste. The moment it hit my tongue, I couldn’t help it, a soft, involuntary moan slipped out.

Her lip pouts out, “but baby, it smells so good… I want one!” Zak disappears with the pickle jar laughing but what he hadn’t bargained for was Lee, who managed to snipe a handful of dills from the jar. He disperses the pickles. “Here you go ladies, philanthropy at its finest”. The boys that remain die of laughter. We’re all satiating our breakfast munchies when Zak returns, “Lee! You magician son of a…”.

"Fine. But only because I’m craving those pickles and ice cream you brought home yesterday." "Pickles and ice cream?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "That’s what you’re into now?" "Don’t judge me," I muttered, walking out the door. “It’s clearly your pickle-obsessed child.” His laughter followed me down the stairs, rich and unguarded, a sound that still made my heart flutter no matter how many times I heard it. I grabbed the jar of pickles from the fridge and the pint of vanilla ice cream from the freezer, plopping down on a barstool at the counter. I twisted open the jar and popped a pickle into my mouth, crunching down on it with satisfaction. The tangy brine hit my tongue, and I sighed,

I tilted the cover just enough to give them a glimpse. “A witch!” “There’s a kitty!” “Is it about ghosts?” The children scrambled off the adults’ laps and crowded closer. “Halloween is almost here. So today, I’m going to read you a story called *The Wonders of Halloween*.” The children eagerly began telling me about the Halloween decorations they had made at school. Before I knew it, even more of them had gathered around me. “Rin was a girl who was afraid of ghosts and the dark. That was why she could not understand why everyone else wanted to turn into ghosts—”

I stare at it as my mouth waters to taste it. “No, I’m just happy you're hungry.” He makes a relieved sigh, and when I seize the day and bite into the pickle, I'm both astonished and delighted at how good it tastes. “Mmmmm… you should try this,” I tell him, holding my hand over my mouth as I chew. “I’m good.” He laughs to himself as he slides his hands around me so they frame my tummy and when I notice the blood flecks on his tan, leather shoes, I swallow my mouthful and wipe my hand over my mouth.

He presents it in front of me and when I smile back at him over my shoulder I take it from his hands and lie back to rest my shoulders against his chest. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” I stare at it as my mouth waters to taste it. “No, I’m just happy you're hungry.” He makes a relieved sigh, and when I seize the day and bite into the pickle, I'm both astonished and delighted at how good it tastes.

I offended him with my suggestion, but soon the hilarity seeps upon his face. “Excuse me? Tickle His Pickle is a very popular book. It sold over a million copies,” I inform them. “You know, Kennedy, in my research, I’ve read wives help husbands with their samples all the time. If you ask me, it’d be kind of hot knowing it would be to create your baby.” I know sex is lacking in their relationship, but Kennedy could keep her clothes on, so she should be able to handle this. I’ll have to chat with her about it this week.