Quarrelling Pretzels

Shaylynn Hewitt

I walked by a pretzel stand

‘Quarrels pretzels,’ to be exact.

Then I turned around and walked back to it.

I stood in line,

And waited for my turn.

And when i arrived at the register i made sure to order,

Extra salty

“Are you sure about that sir?” the cashier asked,

“The salty ones are well, salty.”

“Yes I'm sure.”

Of course I was sure.

What is a pretzel without some extra salt?

They gave me my pretzel.

I paid.

I brought it home.

Sat on my couch with some show I didn't care about playing in the background.

And when I took it out of the greasy paper bag,

It looked at me.

No, how could a pretzel look at me?

I must real hungry,

I ignored it when it blinked at me.

Then winked at me?

And then…

Was that a scowl?

I go to take a bite,

“Your breath stinks.”

What on earth was that?

“Excuse me?” I ask.

Though who I'm talking to is unclear.

“I said, your breath stinks.”

I looked down.

My pretzel looked up.

An angry frown etched on his face.

“Am I delusional?”

“Probably,” the pretzel replied.

“But me talking is not a lie.”

“Okay time for you to die.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“yes!”

“No!”

“What are you?”

“An extra salty pretzel from quarrels pretzels of course.”

It looked at me.

I looked at it.

“What do you want?”

“To fulfill my purpose in life before you eat me. Isn't that what everyone wants in life? To fulfill a purpose?”

“Well yes I suppose that's true. What is your purpose?”

It smirked at me,

I stared at it.

“To quarrel of course.”

“To quarrel?”

“Yes. I'm a quarreling pretzel, and extra salty at that.”

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