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She was bubbly and plump. A little monkey-faced

  • She was bubbly and plump. A little monkey-faced teenager, porky with acne and wearing glasses, tank top and cut offs. She was talking about my little ponies at the Starbucks.
  • When I saw her, I knew I had fallen in love. She was everything I had ever wanted in a girl. But My Little Pony had to die. My Little Pony had to be lured into a dark alley and
  • stabbed by that stupid demon. All I can remember from that night is her high pitch scream and a flash of rainbow. I am never going to forget her sweet
  • & fragile dancing legs. Oh, those dancing legs. So magical and precious. The way they'd move when the sounds were playing. Evil sounds from Uncle Cory's tree house. Why did he
  • keep persisting? I didn't want the peanut butter sandwich; it was smushed at the corners, and the jam was leaking out of the sides. "I'm leaving," I huffed.
  • Mushy corners and leaky sides are the worst, in my book. I was almost out the door, when the PB&J sandwich spoke to me, "Eat me! Come on ... just a little taste!"
  • This must be a trick. Why would a talking PB&J want me to eat it? I dumped out a jar of pickled eggs, which skittered tittering across the floor, & placed the sandwich in the jar.
  • "I'm low in saturated fats and packed with protein! Just take a bii* I quickly capped the jar. But then the pickled eggs bounced up to the sofa. "We taste great in a PB&J!"
  • Room was left for them on the pantry shelves. Everyone was happy. The pickled herring proposed a toast. There were no wine glasses but they used spoons. Those did the job. Three
  • hours later they had toasted to everyone and everything in the house, as well as everyone's families. The room was spinning. No one was surprised when the herring disappeared.

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