The Pickle was doing errands this afternoon, which took him into the bank. We had not previously seen this, however, where the tellers had populated the trays with suckers. The Pickle, as astute a sense of smell as any two year-old, was able to tell something was up as soon as he walked into the bank.
“Momma, pick me up.” The Mother of the Pickle saw the teller trays and tried to ignore him.
“Momma! Momma! Pick me up!” He tried several more times only to be rebuffed, and tried to take matters into his own hands. He turned to the elderly man next to him in line.
“Hey you! Pick me up!” The man was initially taken aback, but when he actually started to reach down to pick up the Pickle, the MOTP gave in and lifted him off the ground. Now at “teller level” he began scooping up suckers by the handful. Realizing that all of them were the same way, he tried to walk to the next teller window for more bounty.
“Pickle! Put those back! It’s only meant to be one per person!” The Pickle was undeterred by this, and again turned to the elderly man.
“Scuse me! Can I have your sucker? Pease?!” And of course for some reason people keep giving him what he wants.
“Of course you can darling.” He smiled and looked down the line.
“Can I have your sucker too?”
“Oh, sure sweetie, I don’t need it!” And he ended up collecting about ten or twelve of them after the teller told him he could take as many as he wanted. The MOTP tried one last time to get the Pickle to put them back and reached for them, so the Pickle played his trump card. He licked the bundle of suckers – still with the wrapper on – with enough saliva to drip down the sides and onto his hand.
“Can’t give them back now, Momma! Dey have GERMS.”