How Real Men Open Jars

Great times with Grandpa.

“Can you open this one?” I passed yet another pickle jar to my grandfather. 

“This one?” He smiled, his strong, beefy arms quickly snatching it and his fingers aligning on the glass to get a better grip. His face turned red as he strained. But it popped open, and he quickly unscrewed and showed me the lid.

I shrieked because it was so awesome, and retrieved a pickle from the depths of the vinegar. He had an impressive streak going now, 13 jars in a row! I bet no other Grandpa could do that.

“How about this?” I pushed a jar of tomato-garlic paste, and he laughed when he saw it.

“Ooh, tomato sauce.” He tapped the lid, testing to see how hard it would be. “Grandma’s going to be mad.”

“VERY mad,” I added. But what the heck, it'll be fine!

He gripped the lid and popped it open without even breaking a sweat. I shrieked and banged my fists on the table, and he laughed too. It was great.

“What about…” I ran my hand down the row of jars still unopened. We weren't even halfway through. “This one!”

“Macaroni and cheese,” Grandpa said, taking the jar. “Hmm, this looks like a tough one. I might need some help.”

I giggled. I haven't ever opened jars at home, but I could definitely do it at Grandpa’s. Everything was magically possible at Grandpa’s, and that was awesome too.

“Could I choose a helper from the audience?”

I stuck my hand in the air. “Me! Pick me!” I was the only person there anyway, so I knew I was gonna get picked, but one has to do his duty, right? Because what the heck.

“That one! Yes, the young little boy in a green shirt, sitting first row. Come on up!” 

I jumped down from my seat and ran up to Grandpa, who hoisted me onto his knee, and placed my hands on the lid.

“Ready?” He placed his hand over mine. Grown-ups have really big hands. “Three… two... one...”

I twisted with all my might, but the lid didn't move! We tried again and my hands hurt after that because Grandpa squeezed them too hard, but the lid stayed on!

“Hmmm,” Grandpa said, and he put me back on the ground. He gripped the jar in both hands, and twisted until his knuckles turned white, and then green, and purple, and then white again, and the lid popped. He slowly unscrewed the top, looking at me with concern.

And then I started crying. Because what the heck? Nobody ever gave me jars to open, and I wouldn’t ever be strong enough, and I nobody really loved me and I was going to run away, and then they’d be sorry for opening all the jars before I was even old enough, and I would become rich and famous without them and have all the jars I wanted.

Grandpa tried to console me, but it was no use. If you gotta cry, you gotta cry, y’know? And if you start crying, even in you actually aren’t sad or hurt, it’s kind of hard to stop. But eventually, I stopped just enough for him to tell me to “wait there”.

Grandpa came back with a spoon. I almost went back to crying because what the heck do I need a spoon for anyway, but he put it in my hand and said it was a magical spoon. And so I stopped because I knew that when one was playing with magical things, one had to see what one was doing, and tears wouldn't help.

“This is my magical, multi-purpose, class-distributed, stainless steel spoon with no side effects. I got it when I went to the magic school, and you know what mine does?” he asked. I shook my head cause I didn’t know. “It opens jars!”

I told him that I didn’t believe him and that Harry Potter never used any magical spoons to open jars. He shook his head. 

“That book wasn’t all real; I told the author to omit the part with the spoon because I didn’t want anyone finding out.”

I nodded my head, because it seemed logical to me. If I had a magical spoon I wouldn’t want anyone knowing either, because can you imagine how much trouble that would be? People lining up for miles around your house to get their jars opened, that’s how much.

“It’s actually really simple to use, want to try it?” he asked. I nodded, and he pushed me towards the row of unopened jars. “So, pick a jar.”

I grabbed a jar that looked really hard to open, and Grandpa positioned it directly in front of me without protest. And then he told me to tap it three times, on the lid, with the belly part of his magical, steel spoon with no side-effects. And so I did. And nothing happened.

“It takes a second. Actually, around four point five seconds, if I remember correctly,” he said, scratching his head with one finger and looking very lost-in-thought. “When was the last time I even used this thing? Anyway… watch carefully now.”

And just as he said so, a bright flash of light exploded in front of the jar, and I squeezed my eyes shut so they wouldn’t hurt, and when I opened them again there was something in the room that hadn’t been there before.

It was an enormous figure of a man, though clearly not human. Its skin was red, the muscles popping everywhere on its body, and it was wearing some sort of black armour with spikes around the shoulder pads, and a helmet with two horns on the side and two red lights peeking out from between the metal. Steam was curling off of his fingers and between his metal plates, and a giant sword hung from his belt. I jumped back behind Grandpa.

I watched as it bowed, low to the ground and in my direction. Then he turned around towards the jar, grabbing it with his giant paws and twisting it open like one would twist a loose screw, before disappearing in another bright flash of light.

Grandpa, who now seemed rather small and thin, laughed, and patted me on the head. “Your first jar!” he said, handing me something. I looked down, seeing the pickle jar and its lid, separated. There were still claw marks on the glass. “Your very first jar! Oh, I remember the day…”

“Grandpa?”

“Yes yes, you probably want to know what that was, right?” I nodded. “Well, my boy, that was the jar-opener. He lives in my magical, multi-purpose, class distributed, stainless steel spoon with no side effects, and opens jars whenever you tap on the lid. And get this, he does nothing else but open jars!”

“That was awesome!” I pump my fist in the air.

“I know! You get another jar and I’ll bring up more from the basement.”

Author's Note

My attempts at something different, tell me how you like it. This is my attempt at humor-by-overkill, which is a category I made up so don't google it.

Reviews

[emmajoy]

' And then I started crying. Because what the heck? Nobody ever gave me jars to open, and I wouldn’t ever be strong enough, and I nobody really loved me and I was going to run away, and then they’d be sorry for opening all the jars before I was even old enough, and I would become rich and famous without them and have all the jars I wanted. '

Very much how a child having a bit of a tantrum would speak, offering how he saw his future if..

A clever story, full of fine dialogue and consequent punctuation; a good but logical relationship between the ages; hints of events and efforts magical, As for the figure who solved the problem lid - could it be.. surely not.. won't say.. ..

Thank you so very much for sharing, is fun and much more.

[annalysiar]

I like this is warm and homey. It has such a loving feel to it. Great write. I love the details and the thought process.

[TWIZTED]

Wow!! Very original and so creative!! Nicely done, and so well written for anyone, of any age group! Awesome job all around I like it alot!

[McBear]

Haha! This was very cute and well written. It really brings on some feels. I have a little bit of critique:

In the first paragraph or so you used "I shrieked" which is fine but you used it shortly after and it seemed a little bit too noticeable. I suggest you maybe use a word like it. Maybe it was just me, I am not sure, but sometimes It is best to not repeat the same thing again. It could be used again as you stated why he shrieked. Sorry if I seem too "nit picky" aha. One more thing;

on the lines..

“Ready?” He placed his hand over mine. Grown-ups have really big hands. “Three… two... one...

I am assuming that the boy was saying "Grown-ups have really big hands" right? Well, before that the grandfather was talking so wouldn't it be a new paragraph so we know the kid was saying/thinking that? Unless it was an inner thought or something.

[AliciaB]

I love this!!! The story is really cute and extremely well-written throughout - very good representation of a little kid's perspective, and heartwarming as well. I also love the reference to Harry Potter. :) And then the thing at the end happens... WHAT!?! It was entirely unexpected and bizarre, and it made me laugh. All around, this story is fantastic. Excellent work!

[Archos]

This one sure is different, but your style can still be noticed in the writing, which is great (do I have to state it?). Anyway, except for the overly descriptive, proffesional introduction (which just doesn't fit the the story, especially since it's a first person narrative) I like they way it's written - vivid, interesting, witty... There are a couple of errors, so if you consider that a problem, I suggest re-reading. That's all, I guess. Thanks for sharing!

[Meeks]

Thanks for the help! The introduction is kind of long, I should probably cut the first jar. I'll keep that in mind when writing.
Again, thanks for your review. I really appreciate it!

[Fuchs]

Hehe I laughed at the ending... Good writing.

[Meeks]

Thanks for the review.

[richieb]

Meeks, very good story. The ending caught me by surprise but it fit your category of over-kill. Your story is set-up well where you could try different endings or just keep it the way it is. I think you are a young talented writer with a great imagination. I will continue to read your work. Richie B.

[Meeks]

Hehe, thanks Richie. I appreciate it ;)

[Bear]

Critique: (Nobody ever gave me jars to open, and I wouldn’t ever be strong enough, and I nobody really loved me and I was going to run away, and then they’d be sorry for opening all the jars before I was even old enough, and I would become rich and famous without them and have all the jars I wanted) This is worded awkward with too many (and I's) consider this "Nobody ever gave me jars to open I wouldn’t ever be strong enough, nobody really loved me, I was going to run away, and then they’d be sorry for opening all the jars before I was even old enough, I would become rich and famous without them and have all the jars I wanted."
(even in you actually aren’t sad or hurt) even if ?
(And so I stopped because I knew that when one was playing) you don't need the And at the start of this sentence.

Review: This is fantastic, it is one of if not the best story I have read all year. Very imaginative, well thought out and original as I can't recall another story like it. Bravo! I can't wait to read more :~) five out of five Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!

[Meeks]

The first thing you mention is actually almost taken (similar style) from another author, so I'm suprised you would mention it. It's supposed to sound like a crying child, with lots of groundless and disconnected accusations coming in all at once, without and pause. Hence the "and I's" to function as periods, but without periods.
Are you sure I should break it down? In the actual book I've found it in, it was fine and actually had a great effect.
Oh, yeah. There's spelling mistakes in there too. I thought I actually proofread this, but obviously not.

Thanks for the comments, really helping me here. To be honest, this story has a completely fresher feel to it than everything I've been writing recently, and I kind of like it for that too.

[Bear]

Having it sound like a child as the narration would mean all the narration should sound like a child, you should mark is as dialog and then it would work well in the story. In dialog, all those things would be acceptable as they would be part of the speakers characteristics so in the book were they dialog?

[Tsubaki Kuro]

It was very interesting. It's very different from what I read, but it was good.

[Meeks]

Really? Thanks, it means a lot to me. :)