Funny stories in under 500 words.

Peter Piper

I was wondering what Peter Piper was up to... This story was written by David Margolis, who retired from the practice of gastroenterology in 2013 to become a full time writer. His stories have appeared in The Canadian Medical Association Journal, JAMA: Internal Medicine, Missouri Medicine,, Long Story Short, Still Crazy, and The Jewish Light of St. Louis. His first novel The Myth of Dr. Kugelman was published in October 2015. A second novel, The Plumber’s Wrench, is currently under review by an agent. He resides in St. Louis, MO with his wife Laura, two rescue kids, three small rescue dogs, and a set of golf clubs.
Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.

A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked.

Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,

Where’s the peck of pickled peppers that Peter Piper picked?

Yes, it was I, Peter Piper, who picked a peck of pickled peppers, or did I? Personally, I’m not partial to pickles or peppers, let alone pickled peppers, and a whole peck? Most people who pick, don’t pick a peck, because they’re perplexed as to how many peppers are in a peck. Thus, they schlepp home a plethora, and hope to get a peck on the puss from their spouse for the picking.

That particular day, as I approached the pepper plantation of prickly Piper Peck, and her partner, Pickett Pepper, I perceived that I had picked a poor time to pick a peck of pickled peppers from the Peck and Pepper plot. Piper and Pickett were peppering each other with epithets, and I was puzzled as to whether they planned for me to pick any peppers, let alone a peck of peppers.

Just then, I pondered how peppers could be pickled if they hadn’t been picked. The picayunish pecking of the pepper proprietors became more peppery, as they partook of a six-pack of Pabst. They were peeved that pecks of pickled peppers were pocked from the pecking of peckers. It wasn’t long before Piper and Pickett picked a bone as to the point of my presence. I piped up that I was preparing to pick some peppers. They disparaged my punctuality for not picking the peppers more promptly, for now they were in a pickle.

I got piqued at their petty petulance, and proceeded to partake of the Pabsts. Soon I was a pickled Peter, and I can’t recall if I picked a peck of pickled peppers or just nitpicked with Piper Peck and Pickett Pepper.


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