The Empty Pickle Jar

I have always loved pickles. All kinds of pickles, except sweet pickles. I remember one time, at my grandmother Opal's house, MeMaw as I called her, I stole a jar of pickles from the refrigerator. I hid under the huge dark Duncan Fife dining table and chowed down on the pickles. To be truthful, the jar was only a third full, but I know that I would get in trouble for eating all those pickles. I don't remember why, but I lift the jar, with the fork still in it. Two weeks later, MeMaw found the jar, with the fork in it,

and couldn't figure out which one of us did it.