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

& 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.