Exercise
FinsburyParkCarrots
Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
Write a story of exactly 150 words about a jar of pickled onions. The story must have a beginning, middle and end. But the story must not involve eating or feding anyone else the pickled onions. Use your imagination. 
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The state of the pickled onion in international super power and minor power politics.
Tony: Bush, honey, have you ever smelt my jar of pickled onions? I carry it with me everywhere. Inside are the most beautifully pickled onions you'll ever find.
Bush: Hey Blair, no shit? Let me have a look at those pickled onions.... thanks for the socks, I appreciate the little details of our friendship.... now lets have a sniff.
Tony: Well that would be an honour, it really would. I love you, here smell them.
Bush: ooh Tony, They're beautiful. I know you love me, I know - Here, I've got an idea - if I gave your pickled onions to Condi I'm sure we could have the Palestinians and Israelis agree that these are beautiful pickled onions. Common ground Tony, that's where we got to build from boy.
Tony: That's brilliant, you are brilliant. I love you.
a couple of fucking muppets
Jim and I argued over the fact that pickled onions and cocktail onions were indeed not the same thing. We took a walk over to the mart to get to the bottom of the arguement. Upon our arrival at the mart we quickly went to the aisle with the bottled goods. Once there we looked high and low in search of the onions. Jim spotted the jar first. "Come on over here and take a look". Thinking that Jim had me beat, I slothed on over to his side. Jim held the bottle up and to my surprise it said pickled onions. Jim said "there you
go, cocktail onions". I looked him up and down, turned the bottle around and said, "read the bottle". "So what!", was his retort."It says, pickled onions!", I replied. "Same thing", Jim shot back. We put the jar back, and went for a pint.
shit, I've never heard of cocktail onions... is it true, do they exist? pretty funny
They are the same thing as pickled onions for most people. But I guess if you used a big onion and cut it into pieces and then pickled it. It wouldn't be the same as having perfect little, round pickled onions or cocktail onions. So there just may be a difference in the point somewhere. But I lost myself in my description, Mr. Chips.
Pickled Onion Jar Bomb
from PastaNazi
What You'll Need:
Large Pot of Boiling Water
1 Pound - Green Onions, cut to ten inches long
Vinegar
Grain Alcohol
Dynamite
Duct Tape
Matches
Instructions
Place Green Onions in Jar, fill to the top with vinegar. Cover jar with lid, tighten. Place jar in pot of boiling water and allow to boil for ten minutes. With jar tongs and an oven mitt, remove jar from boiling water. Allow to come to room temperature.
Place dynamite alongside the jar. Secure with duct tape.
Drink as much of the grain alcohol as possible, making sure not to breath on the matches if they’re lit.
Light fuse and run.
Quickly.
LOL!!!!!!!!
Ms. PastaNazi, you're a sharp one!!
She started to slowing walk up and down the aisles looking at everything. Trying to turn her mind away from that nagging thought....what was she going to do once she got to her sister’s? She picked up a can of artichokes, but she really wasn’t hungry for artichokes. She saw jars of cherry peppers, pickles, olives, and miniature onions.
A jar of onions fell on the floor (and broke!!) as she was walking by, so she paid for that and then quickly left.
He still had a jar of those damned pickled onions sitting on the floor board of his pickup truck. He often hoped that a bump or a quick move would fling the jar against hard metal and bust open. He knew that he carried with him the final solution.
Fuck the bitch was his attitude.
So he tried to bust that jar of pickled onions. Racing over railroad track crossings, sharp turns in town and ultimately slamming his truck into the statue of Higgabottom Anderson, the town’s founder, in the middle of the Town Square.
He cried when he was denied his wish. Poor Jethro never could tell who loved him most.
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
And then Aunt and Uncle Onion got dug up, and my little cousins too.
Mama finally went mad after that. Me and my brothers and sisters had more room, so we didn't mind losing our cousins. But we sure did miss Mama's pungeant clarity. She really added a bite to our conversations, up until then.
Wasn't until my oldest sister stopped being a pearl and went Spanish on us, that we learned what life was all about. She practically thrust herself out of the ground, went rolling around, hanging out with peppers (not just the green ones, but the red ones too) till she found a bar. Jumped into a dry martini, slithered out of her yellow bikini, and swam for a good hour.
Then she came home, told us all we were stupid for being sober and smart, and the next thing you know, we were all hooked on dry vermouth.
Been pickled ever since.
you get the 5 star award.. this is EXCELLENT!!
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
I just wrote it just now and I get an award?
Life IS cool!!
(oh, and kudos to you oldersir... that last line's a kicker, yo)
"I love my job". I say it over and over.
Ms. Walker in room 124...I can hear her awful screams. She is shouting jibberish about pickled onions again. To this day I still have no idea what a pickled onion is. The entire staff ignores her. She still yells her insides all over the blanket. I feel a sharp pain in my head. Today is everyday. I say to myself, "I love my job."
As always I end up in Ms. Walkers room as lunch is served. While the nurse feeds her roommate behind the curtain, I always add a little cyanide in Ms. Walker's pudding.
"What is that?" she asks.
"Pickled onions."
Today is everyday.
(the end-i know i stretched the rules a bit but this is where my mind went with it)
Mitch Hedberg
get a life.
or just do too many drugs.
http://www.myspace.com/brain_of_c
he he ... i'm pickeld now... ughhhhh. stinkin hang over.
Er, uh, yeza.
Eer, eer, 'and 'em ova so as Oi ken 'av a gendah. Mmmm, eee-ess, jas' as Oi remembah dem. Beeeuafoh!!! Eee-ooo moine iv Oi er, *cough* ohpin 'er up an' 'avs me a wee sniff, mae?
Uh, wayoh, um, maekit kwik, mae.
Sheez!
Oh! *sniff* thy smayoh grite! *sniff* Oh, kye jas' 'av un wee bitty unyun?
ABSULLOOTLEE NAUT!
Wha, baddy ruhlex aye? Ruhlex, yea.
Oi'd loike 'em beck aye. Sow, um, eee-ooo 'hand 'em beck purrruntoh y'eer?
Aye, Oi jas' wahned a sniff a yer unyuns, Oi din eeevin ged me 'lil finga wed! SAE! 'Eer, 'av yer bleedin' unyuns beck ye saufish bahsterd!!! *sniff*
FAK EEE-OOO VARY MUTCH, STCHOOPID SHITE!!!!!!!
Troin' a tek moi wee puhdees unyuns 'way. Dem ket ull shet ole ova moi godedem fohlorin'!! Shood kew dat dem ket's wuh Oi shood dew!?!?!?!
'ave you read Tobacco Road????
Jason only had three shots of Johnnie Walker.
"Cause I can't wait to figure out what's wrong with me
So I can say this is the way I use to be" -- John Mayer
“Pickled onions?! Do you think this is going to solve my problems?? “ Cried Jack, not being entirely sure what his friend was actually aiming at.
George was becoming impatient with Jack´s endless moaning and complaining about what happened at the office a couple of days ago.
“Oh come on, keep your pants on! It´s not as bad as it looks and besides, you still have plenty of time to deal with it next week whilst you´re in Brighton.”
Jack on the other hand was expecting his colleague and his lifelong, trusted friend to be a bit more helpful in this terrible situation.
“Right, so you´re saying I should just forget about it and not worry about the consequences until I´m in Brighton?
“Precisely,” retuned George.
“Have you gone bonkers mate?! You must bare in mind that I haven´t been with the company for too long and if I get sacked because of this my wife is going to rip my head off!!”
“Awright mate, this is what we do: let me talk to the boss first, he´ll go easy on me. Then we sort things out before you head off to Brighton and if you want I can also talk to your wife,” replied George somewhat sarcastically which, of course, upset Jack even more: “YOU…..!!!!”
George: “Some pickled onions to throw at the pedestrians?”
;-)
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
Agnes, the leader, was 314 years old and she wasn’t going to let the youth of Britain and developing nations like Legoland, destroy her dream… a world of old people!!! A place where the weather was to be discussed by law, a land full of bus stops with errant gloves perched atop small walls. A land where the whiff of urine meant respect! A land where the senile had ultimate power, and all the young were treated with contempt!
In the morning the newspaper, said all it had to say, drunken man run over, in the street he'd strayed.
Is the fact it rhymes a good enough excuse not to have 150 words?:)