That’s right. A singularity. Look it up.
Not only is there just one of me, but I am unique in all other ways as well. And, there is only one of my name, as in “Pickle.” NOT “Pickles.” Just “Pickle.” P-i-c-k-l-e. Again: P-i-c-k-l-e-NO S.
When people say, “Pickles?” Mom and Dad often wish they hadn’t named me Pickle. They smile and say (usually it takes more than once to get it across), “No, it’s Pickle,” while in their heads thoughts like, Do you see more than one dog here? and PickLLLL! and Just one fucking Pickle, and Asshole race around as their smiles stretch a bit thin. It’s a long story, but my name actually means something other than the sound “pick-le.” It certainly does not mean “pickles.”
I am not a plurality; I am, as I said, a singularity. After this, you shouldn’t be making a mistake about that or about my name.
Now that that’s settled, it’s blankie time.
I love her and all her singularity!