ode... peanut butter (Page 9)

I drew the shades tight.  I put a movie in the VCR in my daughters room and guiltily slunk out....  tip-toeing down the hall, I ignored the dogs with their flapping ears and windshield-wiper tails.  I was wired tight and hurrying.  I heard a creak and froze, looking back and all around.  I heard the ticking of the clock and the far off noise of a child laughing.  I continued my dirty little march and slid into into the kitchen.  Maniacally I burst into action: knife, peanutbutter, crunchy AND creamy.  Concord grape jelly.  Kosher pickles.  Bread. 

I take out 4 slices.  Yes, 4.  I toss them on the plate and furtively reach for and catch one that went to far and fell off.  A flash of light from the knife in the darkened kitchen, glinty and forboding...  Spinning lids fall and clank, but I don't hear.  I am a machine, predernatural, a raging beast with one goal:  the kill, the first magical bite the last pregnant middle of the sandwich. 

Sandwich 1:  Crunchy peanutbutter with grape jelly.  I resist the urge to take a lick of the knife.  I walk a delicate line here, between satiation and gluttoney and I know it.  No snacking.  I am a pro and have fallen victim to these pitfalls before.  I close the bread and rince the know and wipe it with apaper towel.

Sandwich  2: Creamy peanut butter, slices of kosher pickles, another slather of peanut butter on slice two (otherwise the pickles slide around.  Close sandwich.

I hurridly throw the lids back on, furtively trying to match the correct lids to the correct jars.  1, 2, 3, 4!  Refrigerator...SLAM... Cupbopard...SLAM... Pantry... SLAM!

Wait, something its wrong.  I pause, plate in hand.  I hear birds... I hear Ogres yelling at Donkeys...  I hear the panting of two completely mesmerized Golden Retrievers...  What is it...  What...  OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!

MILK...!  I have almost forgotten the cherry on top of the pie.  The dairy to wash down my rich haul.  Wshew.  Swing... SLAM. gurgle gurgle...glop glop glop.  Hand full I sit at the table and set everything down... Where to start....  ummmmmmmm  ummmmmmmm... ummmmmmmm.... smack, slurp unnnnunn...gurgle, gurgle...smack....

AHhhhhhhhhhhhhh

This was my evening last night....

Edited by tmwelshy 2004-08-05 4:00 PM

You're right, of course, but it wasn't the pb in and of itself, but more the quantity of sandwiches... and the sheer size of them... these aren't your mothers pb&j's.  I recon at one sitting I had about 8 tablespoons of pb.  Well over 100 grams of fat in pb alone...  God help me I can jsut feel my metabolism, little workers chugging along, losing a couple pounds a month at a pretty consistent pace and all of the sudden, wham, litte metabolism worker-bees throwing it into reverse, panicked and feverish, craming fat in every corner they can find - I see visions of little umpa-lumpas frenitically searching for storage space as mounds of pb pour into my system, little red claxons flashing and shreeking warnings of eminent overload...umpa-lumpas, sweat streaming down their purple and red faces, their little white overalls stained a pb brown, wheel barrowing fat to my liver, kidneys, busting down walls looking for places to store it all..... 

This is why I fear the Peanut Butter.

TELL IT TO THE UMPA-LUMPAS!