Peanut Butter: Some Random Thoughts

Peanut butter is an acquired taste. One does not simply adore peanut butter upon their first tasting. In fact, I absolutely abhorred peanut butter for the longest time.

But now, I love peanut butter. Sometimes I’ll eat spoonfuls of peanut butter just because I can.

I used to detest peanut butter. I would definitely not eat PB&J, would not think about peanut butter, would not eat peanut butter, would not touch anything that had previously touched peanut butter, and I would cringe at the sight of peanut butter at the store.

I used to claim a peanut allergy so I wouldn’t have to explain why I couldn’t eat a PB&J. No one questioned it (even though I loved Snickers bars and the like).

Then, in fourth grade, we had a field trip to a museum and the school would provide the lunches. They would be serving PB&J. My friend, let’s call her Catherine, has Celiac Disease, and she actually cannot eat PB&J, but that is due to the bread, not the peanut butter. So, because of this, she was allowed to bring her own lunch, but I wasn’t because my peanut allergy was made up.

So on the field trip, I ate only the crusts of the bread, because the peanut butter made me gag. I realized then that my aversion to peanut butter was a real problem. What would happen if there was nothing to eat but peanut butter, jelly, and bread?

When we got home, I lied to my mom (I know, how evil) and I told her that I ate the sandwich and that I loved it and I wanted to eat more PB&J.

The Dark Days began. Due to my supposed “love of peanut butter” we had PB&J ALL THE TIME. Sometimes, my mother would make my brother pasta or noodles and she would make PB&J for me since I “liked it better”. It was hard, and it was painful, but I ate lots of peanut butter and I acquired the taste.

After I had acquired the taste (through a great deal of hard work), PB&J actually became my favorite food and I ate it even more, which was probably not the most nutritious.

The moral of the story is that you can do anything you put your mind to, even learn to love something as disgusting as peanut butter.

A Not So Scary Short Story (I was busy eating candy)

Michael pulls on his tie.

Rewind.

His hands, however, are stiff in his pockets.

Rewind.

A chair loudly drags along the floor.

Rewind.

A book is flipped open.

Then it closes, the chair slides into place, and Michael walks out the door, whistling a hollow tune. The picture on the TV screen ripples, the pixels uncoordinated, a mess of color, until it gives a little “beep” then fades away. It is black.

I stir my tea, putting in my fifth scoop of sugar. The liquid bubbles, unsatisfied with the calories I have been ingesting over this murder case. I take another look at the video again, clicking the red “rewind” button on the front of the remote. The screen blinks to life, the now deceased Michael’s room displayed on the monitor.

Thirsty for more evidence, I scoured the screen for more, hungry for answers I could write down in my notebook. I heard the rapid-fire clicking of a pen, click, click, click, click, click. But I don’t see it on the TV screen.

The lights turn off. The constant clicking gets louder.

Beep! The video screen fades away.

My pen is gone.

Rewind.

The button isn’t working this time around.