When creating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, the essential first step is to
make sure there is absolutely nothing else to eat in your, or your surrounding
neighbors kitchens. Fine. I guess I'll do this, because long john silvers ain't
open 24/7.
Aquire bread. You will notice the bread is in a bag. This is working as intended.
Take the little plastic tie thingy off, and put it in your mouth to chew on. This
is basic instinct, but some of us have progressed too far from nature. Like birds
that can't migrate. Take the heel of the bread in your hand, and narrow your eyes.
You're proactive. This little jerk shall not infect the bag any longer. Feed it to
cats(quite frankly, a fate too good for it).
Take a normal, god-fearing piece on bread and place it on the counter. Don't wipe
the counter down first. Build those immunities. The second piece shall remain in
limbo for the time being. Open the jelly jar, followed by the peanut jar. Do this
in alphabetical order, because if you don't you'll need to flick the lights 3 times
and wash your hands for an hour.
Take the knife in your hand. DON'T THINK ABOUT YOUR ENEMIES. If you do, you could
stare at that knife for HOURS. Dip it in the Jelly first, because jelly is easier
to wash off. See? Some of this is totally practical. Use a gentle scooping motion
similar to the one you'd use while picking up a kitten so an ample amount of jelly
finds it's way onto the glimmering blade. Place knife jelly side down on the bread
and spread it all around. You, my friend have half a sandwich. There is no turning
back now.
Remove the secondary piece of bread. Were it sentient, it would breath a sigh of
relief, reveling in a future that is no longer uncertain. and place it on the
counter next to the jelly covered piece of bread. Wash your knife. Cross
contamination can lead to future disdain for yourself and your laziness. Plunge
knife into the peanut butter like a disgraced samurai plunging a sword into his own
abdomen, but then scoop like you did before. Kitten style.
Place knife on bread peanut butter side down, and use a circular motion to saturate
bread with peanut butter. Throw knife in sink. Do not wash. You did dishes last
time. It's someone elses problem now.
You now have the yin and yang of a PB&J. One side has jelly on top. One has peanut
butter. One jelly. And oh, what a pair they make. Take the piece of peanut butter
bread in palm of your hands butter side up. You're almost there. You're still not
excited, but you're malnourished, so you're bound to be in an bit of a state as it
is. Take the Jelly bread jelly side up in the palm of your free hand.
Clap.
There are plates available, but why waste the dish? When you really think about it,
a table is a giant plate on 4 legs.
Here's the tricky part: There are several holes in your face that you have to
choose from. One of them is correct, although all are able to perceive the sandwich
to some degree, you must pick the correct one, or these other face holes will no
longer function as intended. It is difficult to restore these to factory settings.
The answer is mouth. The mouth. Around now, you'll notice that the sandwich is
still clapped between your filthy, filthy hands, and one is sticky with jelly.
Flatness is important, though, so if you've made it this far and didn't lose
conciousness, thank your lucky stars for your own aptitude.
Take the sandwhich in one hand. Because your other hand will be raised to the sky,
cursing the god that cursed you with your aversion to grocery shopping, because you
could be feasting on ramen right now. Bite it like you would a roast chicken that
you have allll to yourself. This is called lying to yourself, and it's how human
beings get shit done.
Chew it up. Do this until the sandwich has one bite left.
Whisper, "I'll see you in hell." and cast the final blow. Throw it away. The
sandwich will be sad it didn't live up to it's potential.
Leave all the ingredients on the counter, because that's what your roommates do,
and you're passive aggressive.
Remove your smart phone from your pocket and play, "Don't stop believin'" by
journey, and walk out of your kitchen in pretend slow-motion, and when the chorus
kicks in, raise your fist up above your head and freeze in place like the end of
"the breakfast club".
