Corporate Finance©
"There's a sponge in the pickle barrel to absorb the dill spores", the sign read in Mr. Newbury's Swedish Butchery Mart. The sign, put there to discourage inquiries of the large, orange rectangular object in the jar, had been in place since Franklin Newbury opened the Knockworst-based business back in 1957. Franklin was a kind man, a gentile man. He was a pillar of his community, and he gave all of his store's profit to charity. One day, a three-foot-nine-inch midget wobbled into the store, just around closing time. Franklin glanced up from his bonesaw, then continued carving the bicuspid from the moosehead's mouth. The midget walked around the aisle, touching everything with his tiny, tater-tot fingers when he spied the pickle barrel in the corner of the room. Franklin once again looked at the small man and noticed him starting for the barrel, smiling. Just as he reached for the lid of the enormous barrel, the midget gazed into it's contents. In the corner of his eye, he thought he spied a human ear float by, but couldn't be. He removed the lid from the barrel and lowered his pudgy hand into the dill solution. With a shriek, he whipped his hand out of the jar and began screaming in agony. Franklin leaped from behind the counter and slammed shut and bolted the front door, then grabbed the midget by the arm. He snatched the butcher knife on the counter, raised it over the midget's arm, and swung it down, removing the midget's hand. He picked the hand up, waved it under the little man's nose, then threw it back into the pickle barrel, where it disintegrated instantly. The midget's yelling head was next. The next morning, old Mrs. Whiplint shuffled in the front door. A smiling Franklin greeted her. "Well good morning, Mrs. Whiplint! And what can I do for you today?". "Just come by for my morning pickle, Franklin" She proudly stated, as she walked to the pickle barrel. "My....", the elderly woman sighed, "Your sponge seems to have gotten much larger, Franklin!". "Well, the other one was getting kind of worn, so I replaced it with a larger one" Mr. Newbury replied. "Ohhh!", Mrs. Whiplint exalted in delight, "You have put some mini-pickles in your jar! How delightful! I'll take four!". Franklin Newbury smiled as he wrapped the dwarf-pickles tightly in the wax paper.