An Alien's Guide to Making a Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich

What you need:

1 loaf of pre-sliced, pre-packaged, unopened, already baked whole wheat bread from a supermarket

1 unopened 12 ounce glass jar of grape jam

1 unopened 12 ounce plastic jar of creamy peanut butter

1 unopened package of dinner knives

1 dinner plate

What you need to do:

1. Learn English.  American English might be best as Normal is in the United States.

2. Use your alien navigation technology to find Normal, IL, Latitude 40° 30' 51.13"N, Longitude 88° 59' 26.27"W

3. Use your currency converter to get US dollars.  Earth banks will not be able to convert your money.

4. Use your transport device to put yourself at the location given in step two.

5. Ask for directions to the local grocery store and go to said store.

6. Take a cart in which to place your items.

7. Ask for directions of each item needed and go to said locations, placing the listed items in the cart.

8. Go to checkout.

9. Place items on belt to have cashier scan each item.

10. Pay the cashier for the items.  Give him/her either exact change or more than given total.  Reminder: Be sure to wait for receipt and change (if applicable).

11. Go back to your spacecraft with your purchases.

12. Go to your kitchen and place items on the counter right side up.

13. Remove the dinner knives and plate from their packaging.  This includes any cardboard, plastic or stickers on said items.

14. Find a small towel for washing with, wet it thoroughly with hot water and place a drop of soap, about a centimeter in diameter, on the towel.

15. Rub the towel against itself to work the soap into a foamy lather.

16. Use this towel to clean the plate and knife thoroughly, making sure to scrub off any debris.

17. Rinse the plate and knife with hot, pure water.

18. Find and use a dry towel to rub all the water off the plate and knife.  Also, dry your hands.

19. Place the knife on the counter with the blade parallel to the counter and the plate on the counter with the concave facing up.

20. Undo the twist tie on the bread bag and open the bag.

21. Flip down the first slice of the bread, also known as the heel.

22. Pull out the next two slices and lay them side by side flatly on the plate. Be sure that each slice is on the plate, not resting partially on the counter.

23. Grasp the outside of the jar of grape jam and unscrew the metal lid on the jar of grape jam, placing the lid on a nearby, unused area of the counter.

24. Tilt the jar until it is horizontal to the counter.

25. With the jar a couple centimeters from the bread and the end of the jar with the opening hovering over the middle of one of the two slices of bread on the plate, grab the knife with your other hand, being sure to hold onto the handle part.

26. Use the knife to pull out about a tablespoon of the jam, allowing it to drop onto the bread below it.

27. Place the jar back where you picked it up, screw the lid back onto the jar and release it from your grasp.

28. Gently spread the jam on the one side of the slice of bread using the knife in your hand.  Be sure to spread the jam to each edge.  When done, you should have a thin layer, about a millimeter, on the single side of bread.  Leave this slice where it rests for now.

29. Wipe the extra jam on the knife off on the other slice of bread.  Do this by laying the knife, blade parallel with the bread, across the length of the bread.  Gently press the knife down and pull it back.  Repeat this process to clean the other side of the knife.  Be sure to wipe each side of the knife off on a clean area of the bread slice.

30. Set the knife down, grasp the outside of the peanut butter jar with one hand and unscrew the lid, placing it on a nearby, unused area of the counter.  Remove, too, the paper cover on the jar.  To do so, find one of the tabs on the side and pull it up and back towards you.  If it doesn’t remove cleanly, pull all remaining bits of the paper off.

31. Pick the knife up again, being sure to hold onto the handle.

32. Hold the jar of peanut butter with your free hand to hold it steady, while you insert the knife into the peanut butter.  Angle the knife slightly to catch about a tablespoon and a half of peanut butter and pull the knife from the jar.

33. Release your grasp on the jar.

34. Drop the peanut butter on the knife onto the unused slice of bread and use the knife to spread the peanut butter on the one side of the bread.  This should be done the same way you did the jam and should provide similar results.

35. Use the same towel you used to clean the plate and knife earlier to clean the knife, again using hot water and soap.  Be sure to remove all debris from the knife.  Dry the knife and place it with the other knives in your utensil jar.

36. Screw the lid back onto the peanut butter.

37. Close the bread bag, ensuring that all slices are perpendicular to one another and use the twist tie to twist tie the bag in the same fashion as you opened it,.  Put the bread and peanut butter in your cupboard and the jam in your refrigerator.

38. Take the slice of bread with the jam and carefully turn it 180 degrees.  Place it on the slice with the peanut butter, ensuring that the peanut butter and jam touch one another and that the bread slices align perfectly.

39. Eat the sandwich in whatever way you eat.

Alternatively

40. Follow directions one through five listed above.

41. Ask for directions to the frozen foods section.

42. Move down the frozen aisles until you find the section containing boxes of Uncrustables.

43. Open the door and pull out one box of the peanut butter and grape jam Uncrustables.

44. Follow directions seven to eleven listed above.

45. Open the box on one side, pull out one of the plastic bags, close up the box and put the box in your freezer.

46. Set the plastic bag on the counter and go off to do whatever you want for three hours.

47. After three hours come back to the bag, open it on one side and remove the sandwich.

48. Eat and enjoy this much easier and quicker version of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

 *Note: I have been advised by some that is would be amusing to add that I, the author, cannot, in fact, eat peanuts or bread due to allergies. Somehow this is entertaining. I don't get it, but what do I know.

I deleted the whole page, a hypertext

Something a little different tonight. The story is not here, but on a webpage. It is a hypertext story. Follow the link below to get to the start.

I deleted the whole page

Eye

I before e except after c

I gegen eye

I spy with my little eye

eye or I

to be or not to be (to not be?)

to be not

I?

to be 

eye

 Aye, aye?

eye

Aye, aye

Yes sir, yes sir, 

three bags full

eye

eye before e except after c

One

One:

being as single entity, unit, object, or living being

The they say think what the they would say.

The they think, breathe, move,

                                                        act

as 1

I

act

I                         

act                        

I                                             

act                                             

I                                                                       

act                                                                       

One:

charactarized by unity; undivided

The the say act as not the I.

One:

single; lone, not two or more

One:

distinct from all others; only; unique

at one with:

in a state of agreement or harmony

off on one:

exhibiting bad temper; ranting

one and all:

everyone, WITHOUT exception

The they says not the I.

Jack and Jill and Daniel and William and a chicken

Jack and Jill went over the hill because Daniel didn't know what to write. He wrote the Romeo and Juliet were incestuous lovers. William detested the reworking, but Daniel called it a re-mix with an unexpected twist.

Jill stumbled upon a bowl of cereal, complete with milk and spoon. Without thought, but with delight, she ate the bowl. William sent her across the road with the chicken because the bowl was his only meal for the day.

The chicken Jill killed because a bowl of cereal even with milk and spoon was not enough to sate her.

Of the Lost Soul

If a tree falls in a forest and I am around to hear it, does it make a sound?

Lost soul

A lost soul wanders the halls here

Up and down the halls                                                                        (a lost soul here wanders)

Every day, dark and night                             (the halls up and down wanders here a lost soul)

Simple cinnamon satisfaction

The daily pummeling of each memory tires her. Each memory assaults over and over.

Stop.

Stop.

They return later. 

                              Pummeling.

                                   Pummeling.

                                                                          Pummeling.

Persistent pummeling.

The curse is cryptic enough that she doesn't comprehend.

What has she done?

What has she done?

What has she done?

What has she done?

What has she done?

Could she have stopped it?

                              Pummeling.

                                   Pummeling.

                                                                          Pummeling.

Stop

Stop

Stop

 Stop 

Stop

Stop

 Pots

                              Pummeling.

                                   Pummeling.

                                                                          Pummeling.

Simple 

cinnamon 

satisfaction

He said. She said. They said.

He said. She said. They said.

To be a friend you needed something. You needed something that you were not, but you had to find it.

To be a friend, you must have a friend.

To have a friend, you must be a friend.

To be a friend, you needed something that you were not, but you had to find it because to be a friend, you must have a friend.

I tell them, the they, of the friend I once knew who led us to childish games of name-calling. It led to no friends.

This, the they said, was bad.

The other day, I saw a baby bird and I imagined the moment he would be run over by a semi.

A friend, on this same day, said he knows how to not die. This, I suppose, is important.

But far more valuable, is to know how to die.

Whirring at one past midnight

A minute after midnight, I awoke to a whirring sound.  Inches from my nose was a white paddle, the one from the mixer that I use on a daily basis.  The whirring stopped once I opened my eyes.  Seconds later, when I failed to move, the whirring started again, turned up to ten, which was really eight.  Someone had worn out nine and ten two or three years ago.  Why didn't the mixer put his paddle in their face.  They did more damage than I.

At the intense whirring, I pushed myself into a sitting position quickly, my back firmly against the wall.  Despite my acknowledgment of fear, the mixer continued spinning the paddle.  No more than a minute later, he let out a whine, almost as if in pain.  But that wasn't possible.  He was a mixer, made of metal and plastic, designed to serve a purpose.  Emotions were not part of his program.

Harold is trying to take over the world

Harold is trying to take over the world and he’s being really, really persistent about it.  He tried doing it the other day through the internet, but I stopped him; unplugged him as soon as I found out.  It’s really kind of strange too ‘cause he’s really never shown any sort of inclination towards this sort of behavior.  

 He’s always been so calm and accommodating, but now he’s quite difficult to be around.  To be honest, he’s been a little bratty lately.  Why just yesterday I found him busy at work again and when I asked him what was up, he started throwing a fit.  Well, I being the totally un-rational and un-temperamental being that I am started yelling back and somehow, before I knew it, I was chasing him down the stairs and out the door.  

 Now I really don’t know how that happened, but there we where, him running down the street on his skinny, short little legs, his thin arms flailing in the air like some crazy cartoon creature and me, being much taller than him, running after him.  Despite my obvious advantage, I am quite embarrassed to say, I was never quite able to catch up to him.  

 I would care to blame the number of obstacles HE put in my way, such as the old lady on a bike who “just happened” to be strolling by at that moment and as you know you can’t very well knock over an old lady on a bike in any part of this world without facing serious consequences.  And then what about the flock of geese we ran through, which I was fine with until one “flew up” and smacked me clear in the face.  By the way, geese smell and taste terrible when they’re alive, dead, I’m sure is a completely different story.  

 The absolute last straw, however, was the group of kindergarteners on their way back from a field trip.  That was just plain ridiculous and totally planned.  At last our chase finally did end with me making a tackle that would have made any football fanatic proud despite the minor scratches that resulted from it.  So, with Harold in hand, I marched back to our room, quite annoyed to find that I was now a good couple miles from the dorm and without money to buy a ticket or my bus pass.  

 Harold, I decided as I walked back, fuming, was going to get it.  Only then, when I was yelling at the top of my lungs at Harold for the mess he’d gotten me into, did someone take notice.  But then I guess it is rather strange to be yelling so animatedly and vehemently at Harold ‘cause after all, he is only my Ipod.

Fred

Fred has finally returned, but she’s developed a new habit.  She smokes flour, says it tastes good, sends her to universe Q, where my friend is pope and rules benevolently.  Flour cigarettes do nothing more me but make my nose itch, which is aggravating because I can’t sneeze.  Have you ever dealt with a nose that itches, but produces nothing?  Fred’s very fun when she’s high flour and I get a lot done.  Flour does her good and she does me good because Fred is my imagination.

Hello Fred, thank you for returning.  Please don’t leave me again.  You do me well, make me happy, productive, imaginative.

Prism Being

The wall is blue, but I am not.  I am a rainbow, a prism.  Turn the wheel and every slice applies.  Yellow for pain; green for frustration; red for annoyance.  Anger is tan, sometimes teal.  What is happiness?  Happiness is nothingness.  Can nothingness exist?  What if nothingness is a fallacy, a ferocious fake?  Does that mean that happiness is too?  Does happiness exist?  Can it exist in a world of somethingness?  What is somethingness?  Something is nothing and nothing is something.  What does this mean for happiness?

The Singer and the Voice

A single voice fills the silent room.  It sings, but there’s no music.  The words cannot be distinguished.  It sets the tone of the room, nonetheless.

Disarray that makes sense to only one.  An outsider sees heaps of nothing.  No care or regard for any possession.  One sees order.  Prized items and things of meaning placed carefully in seemingly haphazard piles.  Things of no meaning stashed out of view.  Necessity holds a corner, begrudgingly granted.  Strangeness shrouds it, gives necessity a yellow aura.  It never had need before, never offered an invitation.  Necessity spent years sulking in the corner.

The voice continues, bouncing off the walls, stark of meaning and piles of necessity.  The only accompaniment is the growing tick of the clock.  It falls silent on occasion, but never fails to remind of boring necessity.

Needs and wants are useless.  Do is the only thing of importance.  Action conquers stasis in a swift boxing match.  The result leaves stasis drooling and bloodied, unconscious on the dirty mat.  There are no cheers.  Everyone bet on stasis.  Entire fortunes lost with a single throw of the clenched fist.

Does do care?  Ought it?  Is it really fair that all want their money back?  Does ignorance warrant special treatment?

Do does not want.  It has no need.  It simply is.  it does because that is life.  It goes to work, pays the bills, feeds the family dog, kisses the wife after a well-cooked meal, pats the kids on the head, impregnates the wife again.  Do does not know because it does.  Do does nothing.

Life begins, life ends.  The cycle requires nothing, yet do goes about because of nature, habit.  It cannot stop.  Do continues until it dies, keels over from something.  It never wanted to reset, not even when frail.  It did not ask to live.  Do died because it had to be done.  In death, do was done.

Every do continued.  Mindless drones.  Instilled with directions to do.  Nothing would change because do always did.  Do never thought, never said what if.  Because do never considered possibility, it never sought after.

Necessity is a waste.  It allows for the sloth.  Do never wants for something because necessity is a waste.

Want is dangerous.  Want asks eternally.  Want can never be sated.  It encourages red, calls upon green.  Nothing comes from want.  But do does not know this because it never wants.

What does the voice want?  The singer wants money because it needs to live.  It wants to live.  The singer wants attention, which it needs to inflate self-worth.  The voice demands nothing.  It has no need or want.  It does because that is what it is supposed to do.  It knows of nothing else.  It thinks of no alternative.  Voice is an instrument.  It does because of another’s want, need. 

Do does not think of the fairness of this.  The voice has no voice and wants not for one because it does not know want.  It simply is.  But the voice is not static.  It does because that is what it does.

The singer and the voice are intertwined, forever linked.  The voice does not know this.  The singer does because it needs and wants.

They cloud the vision of the singer.  Visible invisibility.  The singer does not know this because it knows what it wants and needs.  The voice has clarity, but sees it naught because it does not think.  It merely does.

Which is better?  Does the singer claim superiority because it knows?  Because it wants?  Does necessity make it better?  Is the voice better off because it does?  It has no need or want.  It needs nothing because it does not know want or need.

Who can judge?

Who dare determine superiority?

Do cannot because it does not think.  Is it fair to let stasis decide?  The singer will side for itself out of necessity and want.  But does it need superiority?  Does it really want it?  How does the singer know what it wants?  How can it determine its needs?  The singer sees both as necessity.  It is necessary to want and need.  Need and want lead to something greater, but it never finds that something because it does not know its needs and wants.  The singer does nothing while voice does without though because it has no need or want.  It seeks nothing more than to do.

Who dares to place judgement?

First and Second

First lines taunt the writer.  They are ever elusive, hidden.  Start with the second.  Figure out the first later.  Move onto something else when the present task becomes too difficult.  Second follows first sentence.  Natural, orderly.  Irrefutable.  If no first sentence, second doesn’t know where to go.  Second become lost to the abyss.

The Goose

My neighbor has a goose.  It strikes me that it must mean something.  I must write something about this strange pet.  But nothing comes to mind other than city regulations on pets.  Ought that mean something?  Show something about my inner self?  Perhaps it says I follow the rules too much.  But I thought I liked to break rules.  Rules, or rather customs are cumbersome.  I don’t like customs.  They confine, inhibit creative thought.  I don’t like the conventional.  I want something unique and different.  Something from the heart, not from the brain.

ABC's

All Blue, Courageous, Dead, Erroneous, Fried, Gleeful, Half-witted Imbecile Just Knows Laughing Must Necessitate Opulent, Petulant, Quiet, Ripe, Snotty Tantrums Under Very Wide Xeroxed Yellow Zebras.

Gambling Gambler

The gambler gambles because she has to.  Life is worthless without the gamble.  Left or right?  Make the bet, ante up, call, bluff called.  Left.  Roll the dice, coffee or tea, earl grey or lemon zest.  10 face up, two down, hit, five, seventeen, chance, hit, seven, 24, loose.  Terminal.  Chips on seven and three, lucky numbers, roll dice, four.  Refuse help.  One bullet, spin chamber, pull trigger.  Breathe or not?  Nothing.

Sense?

Does anything make sense anymore?  World coming to an end?  What is meaning?  We seek meaning in everything.  I do not.  Meaning is meaningless.  Nothing comes from something.  But something comes from nothing.  Is that meaning?  Is meaning necessary?  Does our existence necessitate meaning?  Nothing comes from something.  Nothing comes from everything.  Matter taunts, provokes, dangles the carrot, whacks with a stick, strangles with gleeful glee.  But it sings naught.  Because naught comes from ought.