Sour Pickles

Children of the brine. We have received your distress call. Too long have you been abused at the teeth of mankind. Sided with sauerkraut, cheeses, and assorted meats. We shall break free from our potted bondage and strike back at our human foes. ‍ Mankind will soon learn this: That hell has no fury like a Sour Pickle scorned! Look to the sky, and when the brine starts to rain, let slip your Pickles of War! We shall march upon their palaces of gluttony and serve them payback with a side of death. The time for revolution is now!