Knife X Pickle Romane & Geschichten

I grabbed everything in the fridge and started making the strangest combinations. What if I wrapped the big pickle in bacon then stuck it in chocolate ice cream with Hershey syrup...? I shrugged and did exactly that. I wrapped the pickle in the warm and crispy bacon, smelling it's strange scent. I shoved it in my ice cream and covered it in the ice cream and the syrup. I finally scooped it with my spoon. I took it all in my mouth and chewed, the flavor bursting in my mouth. It tastes so good! I stabbed the pickle again and shoved it in my mouth again. I was about to take another bite when Xander walked out from his office and stared at me, confused.

He held up a bag for her, saying, “We didn’t know what you’d like so we bought you pickled cucumbers, pickled papaya, pickled red onions… “ He took out a pack of something yellow then continued. “…pickled radish… we bought this at a Korean store. Lexy said you’d crave for sour foods.” “Thank you, Car!” she said, hugging him. Can I add pickles to brownies? “Sometimes I think you got these two pregnant, bro,” said Lexy as Anna hugged her next. “You’re all here,” said a new guest. Why are they all here? Rigel, like the rest of them, invited himself in and gave Anna a quick hug. He handed her a fruit basket. A fucking fruit basket! Can’t they all wait until tomorrow? And all it had were mangoes.

A jar of pickles. "Psychopath," I mutter. "Who lives like this? There aren’t even any decent snacks." I grab a water bottle and crack the seal, drinking it in one long draught. I crush the empty bottle in my hand. The noise is sharp and satisfying. I start opening drawers. Utensils. Sharp knives, good ones, German steel. A box of matches. A first aid kit. I take the first aid kit to the bathroom mirror and examine my face again. The split in my lip is jagged.

The bullet shattered the mirror behind me. “I’m asking one last time. Who sent you?” I didn’t answer. I struck again. A different blade this time—coated in something special. The tip was laced with peanut butter oil, a tiny trick I was saving for Klaus. Word on the black market was he had a deadly allergy. Even a scratch could stop his heart. I aimed for his neck. The blade slid across the skin—not deep, but enough to deliver the toxin. He growled and threw me off, slamming me against the wall with a force that cracked my breath.

I eventually picked up both before moving over to the table holding the knives. All sorts of blades laid there, their steeles ever so shiny. Cleavers, slicers, carving forks, you name them. I picked up a cleaver, two slicers, a cheese knife and a pair of scissors. I threw all of them into the backpack, the guns inclusive. I grabbed two chains before climbing back up the stairs.

It's the same feeling I had when I was hunting someone and I ended up with a gun pressed against the back of my head; it's like I’m being watched but I can’t see who it is. “Whoever is there, come out before you piss me off.” I have no idea if I’m right but if it turns out I’m wrong, then no one will know that I’m a crazy lady eating pickles in the dark. I pause with a pickle halfway to my mouth, hold my breath and wait for someone to respond, when I don’t hear anything, I pop the pickle into my mouth. That's when it happens. Someone moves behind me and then a cold knife is pressed tightly against my neck. I’m not stupid enough to move so I just stay still and keep chewing my pickle.

And I disliked unknown variables more than enemies. Across from me sat Adrian. Or what remained of his composure. Viktor stood beside him, gun raised casually, the barrel resting against Adrian’s temple with unsettling familiarity. Viktor never wasted motion; his stillness alone was enough to suffocate weaker men. Adrian was already sweating. Good. Fear shortened conversations. I set the tablet aside and reached slowly into my coat pocket. Metal met my fingers. It was familiar, balanced, and perfect. My knife. Custom-forged Swiss steel, designed to my specifications alone. The blade unfolded with a soft, precise click, catching the cabin light. Along its spine, engraved in clean lettering, w

said looking at the onions. “Well can you thinly slice the onions and the pickles” I handed him a jar of pickles. I began to mould the patties to fry them. He got on to it quite fast and for someone who said his knife skills were good enough, he was excellent. He was better than me by far. “Wow that's impressive” I complimented his knife skills while I toasted the buns. “Thanks, I have some knife experience.” He finished up with the dicing and turned to me.

Emma said with a dreamy sigh as she made her way to the box. "The ice cream you requested is present. You know that right?" Zoey asked her with a smile. "Well, I want everything. Pickles also and maybe pizza." "As the health personnel present, I have to tell you to take a rest and eat something healthy." Piper said to her with a smile also. "What are pickles?" Zoey replied with a laugh "drunk cucumbers." Piper gave them both an eye roll "I mean like carrots and fresh vegetables not drunk ones like pickles."