Peanut Butter

I keep stealing my brother in laws pb.
“Remember Jane, buy peanut butter.”

On my white board is this simple note in the corner by so-called important dates. It keeps getting lower and lower and each time I add it to my banana smoothie I feel giddy inside. Is this the shoplifter’s shot of adrenaline? I never knew stealing peanut butter could be so wrong, and taste so delicious. After making this smoothie for my brother I made myself a banana colada, which actually topped the deliciousness of the previous peanut butter encounter.

Crushed ice, a banana, coconut rum, and banana liquor all in a blender. I highly recommend it folks, you have nothing to lose. I lost count of how many shots are in my current glass but there are enough to remind me of the peanut butter, and enough so I could forget.

Ugh, the nazi dog farted again. I don’t know why he insists on sitting right next to me releasing puffs of gas. We’re not friends, yet here he is. Human nature right? You’re a jerk to someone and there they are, following you around smelling your farts.

…which is why my phone is waaaay over there and I’m waaaay over here. I’m not liking this whole I feel shit and may have emotions for an ex-lover. I couldn’t even admit it to myself last night, I still use the word may, obvious denial. This is why I’m here stealing peanut butter, drinking, and smelling nazi dogs farts; to not use my trigger finger on that phone.

I can’t remove the peanut butter off my phone screen.


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