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My name is Trisha and I'm ten years old and my favorite color is green and I CAN'T FIND THE DARNED PEANUT BUTTER! I'm hungry, and I want some PB toast. I looked in the cabinet with the cookie supplies, and it's not there. It should be there, but it isn't. My toast is still toasting in the toaster, and I have the butter knife in my hand. Will somebody help me find the peanut butter? I walked into the family room. My mom was watching television. My sister was reading a book. "Does anybody know where the peanut butter is?" I asked. No one said anything. I waited for ten seconds. No one moved a muscle. "I'll take that as a no," I muttered and turned around. My mom spoke up. "Isn't it in the cabinet with the cookie supplies? That's where it should be." "No, I looked there." "I don't know where it is, then." "Okay." I went back to the kitchen and looked inside the cabinet again. White flour, sugar, powdered milk, ground cinnamon, vanilla extract, brown sugar, ground ginger, baking soda, baking powder. Chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, Easter sprinkles, regular sprinkles, shredded coconut. A box of cookie cutters. Baking pans. The toaster dinged, and I hopped up and picked up my lovely toast. It was light brown on both sides. It was perfect. I sniffed the surface, and although it might have been my imagination, I caught a hint of peanut butter. I put it back into the toaster to keep it warm, then opened all the cabinet doors and rummaged through all of them. I found everything except for what I was looking for. Frustrated, I grabbed the bag of chocolate chips, ripped it open, and threw some in my mouth. I took one, opened the door to the toaster, and set it in the middle of the toast. I closed the door and watched if the chocolate would melt. I sniffed. I smelled peanut butter. I looked in the refrigerator, and spied the cream cheese. I brought it out, picked up my knife and opened up the package. I stared at it for a few seconds. "Mommy!" I screamed. "What?" she screamed back from the other room. I picked up the cream cheese. "There are RAISINS in the cream cheese!" I exclaimed. I ran over to her and showed her. "Oh, those aren't raisins. Throw it out. It's moldy." My sister glanced up from her book to look at the round black spots in the white cheese. "Disgusting," she said, and went back to reading. I took the cheese to the garbage can in the kitchen. I dropped it in, and it nestled with the other thrown away stuff. There you go, cream cheese, your new home. Make friends with the chicken bones and the plastic wrap and the Juicy Juice box. Enjoy life before you are completely eaten up by the mold. I sniffed, and it did not smell like peanut butter. I gagged and put away the garbage can. I went to the garage, and looked in the storage cabinets that held unopened cereal boxes and cans of food. Unfortunately, it didn't hold any new jars of peanut butter. I gave up. To hell with peanut butter toast, or any toast at all. I took out a frozen Hot Pocket and microwaved it, and while I waited I stole the unmelted chocolate chip from the cold toast and sucked on it. Then, the phone rang. I listened to it, and felt the sweetness of the chocolate chip slide over my tongue. Ring. Ring. Isn't someone going to get that? I thought. "Will somebody get that?" my mom yelled. "Shhhh," I could hear my sister hiss. "Daddy's taking a nap." "Then will you answer the phone?" my mom said. "I don't want to answer it. I can't miss this." Ring. The answering machine picked up. "Hello, you've reached the number 503, 6--" My sister reached over and snatched up the phone. "Hello?" she snapped. I was glad I didn't have to answer it. My ham and cheese Hot Pocket was done. I took it out and watched it steam into my face. It didn't smell like peanut butter. I took a nibble on a corner of the flaky thing. I took a bigger bite and chewed. I carried my plate to the family room to watch TV with my mom. It was a drama, a series, and I had no clue what it was about. My sister was gone, but her book was still on the table. I had no interest in it. So I looked at my steaming delicious, and I squeezed until the cheese came up to the top. I took a large bite. They call it Hot Pocket for a reason. It was a little too hot for my tongue. "Awwlaaa!" I said and breathed out of my mouth. I chewed with my mouth open and steam came out from between my teeth. The phone rang again. "Ahhgangaaid," I said. "Aimoufiffo!" I heard my sister holler, "I'm in the bathroom so someone else is going to have to answer it!" "Mamoufiffo!" I said again. I chewed. My mom sighed and picked up the phone. "Hello?" She listened for a second and said, "Yes, she's right here." She handed the receiver to me and looked back at the television. I listened through the earpiece. "Trisha?" the girl said. Oh, my friend Carly. I swallowed and greeted, "Hi Carly!" My tongue was burnt. "Hey. I was wondering, do you want to come over?" "Yeah! When?" "Um, is right now okay?" I turned to my mom. "Can I go to Carly's house right now?" "Yes. Tell Daddy to drive you." "He's asleep." "Then don't wake him." "Can you drive me then?" She didn't answer. The television showed a teary-eyed woman in a lacy brown top, saying something to the handsome man standing behind her. My mom replied, "After this show." I told Carly that, and we talked for a little more, then hung up. I arrived at Carly's house half an hour later. My mom greeted Carly's mom and they chatted. I noticed how Carly's mom looked amusingly similar to the crying woman on TV, except Carly's mom was all-smiles. My mom asked, "Did you catch 'Melanie's Life' on television today?" "Oh, no... I don't watch any soaps." She laughed. "I only watch the Food Channel." As soon as Carly and I saw each other, we grinned and ran inside and played board games and talked. We had a blast. We had tuna fish sandwiches and Gummi Worms for snacks. I peeked in their refrigerator. "You keep your peanut butter in the fridge," I exclaimed. I noted that it was a different brand than the kind my family usually got. Carly took it out. She read the words printed on the top. "'Refrigerate after opening to keep from separating'. Because it's the real peanut butter, and it doesn't have any chemicals put in it, if you leave it out, oil comes up to the top." "Hmm," I said. Maybe the peanut butter was in the fridge at home. When I got dropped off at home, the first thing I did was go inside and look in the refrigerator. Leftovers, pickles, cheese, salad, salsa, smoked salmon, bacon, olives, and a bunch of other things including an empty milk carton and a small chapter book. No peanut butter. Well, what did I expect. I took out the olives and took them to my room. Stuffed olives. I stuck my fingers into the jar and had to stretch and bend my finger for each olive -- sort of frustrating, but worth each nugget of heaven. I smelled peanut butter. Very strange. Olives usually don't smell like peanuts. I heard the door of my parents' room open and heard my dad shuffle out through the hall. My dad! He loved peanut butter! Maybe...! I waited until my dad's footsteps sounded like they were in the kitchen until I set the jar of olives down and sneaked into his bedroom. My dad came back to the hall and he stopped at my empty room. "Where's the olives...? Oh," I heard him say to nobody in my room, and I heard him go in. Fair enough, I thought. I was in his room, so it was okay for him to be in mine. I went to my dad's side of the bed and looked under the pillow, under the bed, between the sheets. Nope. The peanut butter was on the bedside table. "I found it!" I hissed excitedly. I grabbed it and jumped onto the bed. I jumped with joy! Then I sat down cross-legged and opened the jar, and scooped out some with my index finger. It tasted like peanuts and olive juice. I leaped off the bed and went to the kitchen and re-toasted the bread that was still in the toaster, then on second thought, I took out the old bread and put in a fresh slice. The toaster dinged and I spread peanut butter over the lightly browned toast, and the peanut butter melted perfectly. With the butter knife in one hand and my PB toast in the other hand, I did a victory dance. Heavenly peanut butter toast. |