Anticipating the culinary equivalent of "squish rice into balls", a soured cucumber is horrified that a simple asian appetizer is infinitely more complex to create than he'd believed was conceivable.

He stands motionless in his ineptitude, until at long last a quiet, sweet voice assures him from the dark that no gerkin is perfect, that he is truly one remarkable pickle.

So marvelous, in fact, he should just trash it all and order take-out.