Whose Brine Is It, Anyway?

I've been hiding a terrible secret for weeks. It explains why I've been so moody and why I break down into tears whenever I hear sappy music from a commercial or a television drama. I don't know how I'm going to explain it to my friends or my family. What would they think of me? How would my mother react if she found out that... I'm pregnant?

It's the only explanation. I've been working out for a really long time and I can't get rid of this bulge on my midsection. It's huge. And my appetite has become extremely voracious lately. I don't even bother with utensils anymore. Once my soup is done, I just start sipping out of the pot. You can also hear me grunting and gasping for air when I'm eating. It's pathetic.

It's a well-known fact that people who are pregnant often have weird cravings. Some people eat fried chicken dipped in mayonnaise. Others eat ice cream and gravy. My special craving is olive or pickle juice. They don't sell it in individual snack packs like a Capri Sun, so people in my condition are forced to strain the juice from a jar into a glass.

While I was at a trick's house last week, I was hit with the accursed pregnancy craving. He told me that I could help myself to whatever was in the refrigerator, so I took him up on the offer. I saw that he had a jar of Vlasic Dill Spears and I instantly heard the Hallelujah chorus from Handel's "Messiah" playing in my head. I poured some of that delicious nectar of the gods into a glass and I swallowed it faster than I swallowed him ten minutes prior.

Then he comes into the kitchen because he's horny again and he smells the pickle juice in the air. He's like: "did you eat a pickle?" And I said: "no." And he says: "oh, because it smells like pickles." And I said: "I drank the juice." then I smile innocently as he tries to suppress a look of shock and horror. That didn't stop him from giving me another great pounding. I know what you're thinking, and yes it is okay to have sex until the third trimester.

After the third time, he turns to me and asks about the pickle juice. I could have told him the truth about my pregnancy, but nobody likes a preggy bottom boy. I just told him that I love to drink pickle juice. We got into a huge debate about me drinking pickle juice, and I was starting to regret not reaching for the water when I was in the refrigerator at first. The debate quickly turned into an argument and I ended up leaving.

We've all had someone over for casual sex sometime in our lives, and we all have stories about the weird things that they do. I will forever be remembered by him as the pickle juice boy. That doesn't bother me because I have more important things to worry about at the moment. I need to contact Maury to get a paternity test done. I just won't ask Connie to sing in the background.