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Alex
Eames needed a pickle. She wasn't pregnant, and she did like pickles.
Sometimes she just wanted one. Hey, it was better than sniffing a
corpse. Either way corpses can't fit into a refrigerator, but pickles
did. And that was exactly where they were. Right behind the two day
old Chinese food and orange juice. God, she needed to organize. Bobby
had his food in order of healthy to fatty stuff. The health food was
on top because it was eye level when he bent down. He didn't like to
lean down to get any thing else farther down. The beer was on the top
shelf. Her cooking wasn't.
Grabbing the pickles she shut the door.
Mmm...pickles. Still better than corpses. She walked to the counter.
She proceeded to open the pickles. Uh uh. Not working. Wiping her
hands on her shirt she tried again. Like the hand wiping had helped.
Taking the pickle jar to the sink she let it sit under the water for
a minute and dried it off to try again. No luck. Alex softly cursed
and headed for the counter again. Reaching into a drawer she pulled
out a screw driver.
12 minutes later
Alex stared at the pickle jar. It stared back. It was on one side of the table, and she was on the other. The screw driver lay discarded beside her chair. She blinked. The jar didn't. Evil thing had made her lose her appetite. She didn't even want the pickle now; she just wanted to open the jar. The phone lay suggestively by her right hand. No, she would not give in. No...
23 minutes later
"So,
where is it?"
"In there." Bobby started to the
kitchen, but turned back when Alex didn't follow him.
"Aren't
you coming?"
"No, it irks me."
"Okay."
Alex sat there. Damn manipulative inanimate objects. Bobby held the
jar under her nose smirking. She stared up at him with three words
already leaving her lips.
"I loosened it."
FIN