When you gonna eat that pickle?

12:45 a.m.: Two young men come in and grab a couple of energy drinks. As one is paying for a Monster, the other grabs one of the bagged pickles we sell.

"Whoa! It's hard. There's actually a pickle in there," he says.

"Maybe that's why it's called 'Pickle in a Pouch,'" I answer.

"Who would buy that? That's crazy."

"Well, we sell a lot of them," I say. "We also sell a lot of hard-boiled eggs in a bag. And I can't even imagine eating one of those."

"Have you ever had one of the pickles?" he asks. "Are they any good."

"No idea. I've never had the urge."

"You should buy it," the other guy goads. "C'mon. It's only 99 cents."

"No way," the first one says, and they head for the door.

I see them talking and laughing outside the door, when suddenly they both return.

"He's gonna buy me a pickle," the one says.

"You want regular or hot and spicy?" I ask. "Either way, I'd get one of the ones in the refrigerated section. These ones up the counter scare me a little, though I'm sure they're fine being vacuum-sealed and all."

"I better get the spicy one since he's buying," the one says.

"You have to drink it right here," the buyer declares, so he (pointing to me) can see if they're any good."

"Drink it?" I ask. "You don't drink it. You eat the pickle."

"But you've got to drink the juice!" the buyer declares.

"Nasty," I say. "Do what you want, but take it outside so you don't spill or barf on the floor."

The two leave, and I see the one taking a bite out of the pickle. He gives a thumbs up through the window, but I don't see him drink the juice.

There was no vomit in the parking lot the next morning.