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Rated: E · Short Story · Fantasy · #2117430
What does food think while they are being made into a sandwich? Read on to find out.

They Love Me the Most

     The cabinet door over the countertop next to the sink flew open letting the light from the kitchen shine into the bottom shelf. Is it morning already? The peanut butter asked.

     It must be. The jelly responded. Who do you think she will pick first?

     I think it’s going to be me. She always picks the one she likes the best. And that’s me.

     No, she doesn’t. she picks randomly. If she did pick the best, that would be me.

     Would you two stop your arguing. It doesn’t really matter which one she picks first. Look down on your way off that shelf. You will see she has already picked first me. Eight slices of bread sat on a paper plate just below peanut butter and jelly.

     Jelly suddenly started rippling within her jar. Was it cold to you last night?

     No, it wasn’t. It was about normal in here for me.

     You’re just thinking that because I thought it was cold. Jelly thought in only a language that food could understand.

     We are about to find out who gets picked first. Here come her hands/

     A pair of hands reached into that cabinet. One hand grabbed the peanut butter. The other one pulled out a jar of jelly. Both were placed on the countertop on both sides of the bread slices.

     Even her hand is cold. Are you still going to tell me it wasn’t cold last night?

     Okay, so it was a little nippy overnight. But it wasn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be.

     One of the hands opened a drawer under the peanut butter, bread slices, and jelly. A few seconds later a knife got pulled out. The hand put the knife down by the peanut butter.

     Ha, Ha, Ha. She picked me first after all.

     No, she didn’t. You just happen to be the closest to where they keep their knives.

     One of the hands picked up the jelly jar and opened its lid. Then she placed it back down on the countertop and did the same thing to the peanut butter.

     She opened me first. That means I win.

     No, it doesn’t. She only opened you first because she is using her right hand more than her left.

     Would you two quick arguing. We already settle who she likes the best. And that was me.

     You’re not the best. You only got out of your bag first because you are already on the countertop.

     I don’t like thinking it, but I agree with peanut butter. That’s the only reason you got picked first.

     The hand picked up the knife and stabbed it into the peanut butter. Even the knife is cold.

     Would you stop thinking about that. We already settled that argument.

     I didn’t start that argument. You did. I’m the one who finished it.

     A big hunk of peanut butter came out of the jar with the knife. Ouch, that hurt.

     What did you expect to happen? You’re a jar of creamy peanut butter. They can’t make a peanut butter sandwich without digging it out of you.

     I win, I win. She’s going to spread me on the bread first.

     That doesn’t mean anything. They always start with the peanut butter.


     Four paper plates were spread out on that countertop now. On each one two open-faced slices of bread sat on them. The first two already had peanut butter on their slices. Next to those slices grape jelly was spread on it.

     I win, I win. She put more jelly on my half of the sandwiches.

     No, you don’t. You just look like you have more because of you being so lumpy.

     I’m not the one who is lumpy. You are. Just look at yourself. You’re uneven all over your slices.

     I am only lumpy because she doesn’t know how to spread me evenly. You are the one that’s naturally lumpy.

     Would you two stop your fighting? If you don’t, I’m going to flip myself over before she can, and shut you both up.

     Just then the pair of hands finished putting the first two sandwiches together. Then she went to the peanut butter and put its lid back on. She did the same to the jelly. The peanut butter then got put back on the shelf while the jelly got put into the refrigerator.

     You think it was cold last night. Just wait until they close that refrigerator door. Then you will really be cold.

     What about me? There are still two sandwiches that haven’t been made yet. Is there something wrong with two of your children? Are they sick? Why did you pull me out of my comfy bag if you’re not going to use me?

     The hands pulled out another peanut butter jar and a jelly jar. After placing them on the countertop, she reached up and pulled down another jelly jar.

     I win, I win. There are only two of you. And there are three of us, the strawberry jelly said to the chunky peanut butter.


     All the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were completed. And the last of the lid's was being tightened on the apricot jelly. One of the hands then picked up the peanut butter and placed it back on the shelf. Then using both hands, she put the two other jars of jelly into the refrigerator.

     After closing the door to the refrigerator, the mother picked up the knife and cleaned off the blade with a paper towel. Then she cut the crust off the sandwich with the apricot jelly within it. Once that got done she started placing the sandwiches into sandwich bags before she placed each one in a paper bag with the names of two boys and two girls on them.

     You two don’t win. I do. They love me more than they do you. At least one of them does. Besides without me, there wouldn’t be any sandwiches to love.

Word Count = 991

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