Saturday, June 7, 2014
The Fluffernutter Sandwich Of Doom
The pants were the first to give up. They had held out far longer than anyone had thought possible, especially after the "double lutz" incident. However, even the strongest thread has it's limits, and one afternoon in late April the limit's of the thread holding the inseam of the pants together gave out. At first it was just a slight separation at the mid-point of the thigh...but then the dam burst, and in seconds a large chuck of bare thigh, as well as a glimpse of underwear, was visible to all.
If it wasn't a work day, there wouldn't have been much of a problem. As it was a work day, that meant finding a replacement pair of pants. An embarrassing trip was made to a nearby clothing store, and after trying on a few pair, suitable replacements (read; one size up) were found.
But that was just a pat of butter on the twenty-five pound 3-hour over-cooked turkey. The cause was not effected. The cause needed attention. And the cause was Fluffernutter sandwiches.
A Fluffernutter sandwich, for those not in the know, is basically an artery-hardening time bomb. You take a bite and instantaneously, your body cringes in fear.
Fear of death.
That fear should be enough to keep one from eating even the smallest nibble...but no, that was not the case in this instance, for no sooner had the new size pants been welcomed when the tension began anew...right after the first Fluffernutter sandwich of the day...*
*Okay, I admit it - I only wrote this because I love the sound of the word "Fluffernutter."
Seriously, who doesn't?