Life’s Wonders Praised in Wildly Suggestive, Oddball, and Nonsense Ways
In an effort to offer a counterpoint to my usual cynical antics, I’ve decided on a new project: a weekly, year-long discussion of those things in my life that I enjoy. For those keeping count, that’s one new thing every week. But, never one for the more traditional approaches, I intend to keep things a little off side, a tad outlandish, and always one foot outside of polite company.
By Z. S. Roe
There are many things I won’t put in my mouth, such as pre-mixed concrete or lit kerosene. That, my friends, would be grotesque. But if there is any one thing that I would gladly cram into my vocal compactor in obscene, lustful amounts, that delectable wad of nut paste us gluttons call peanut butter would surely be it.
The poor man’s caviar, some call it. Me? I call it a goddamn sensation, very near the second coming of Christ, but in my mouth. Spread over warm bread in generous, no, heaping amounts, peanut butter is the busy man’s quick protein pump, like a bevy of muscled bros all bench pressing for the combined swollen girth of your mightily endowed figure.
Some prefer the more natural persuasion, I hear, perhaps enjoying the rhythmic motion of mixing oil into stiff butter, of having to physically exert themselves in an effort to satiate their appetites. Others, however, cannot wait so long, but must consume immediately, must fill their mouths until their eyes begin to water and their throats begin to burn. They must choke themselves on this mouthful of nutty filling – this is how they are satisfied. And if, in their haste, some is globbed across their open mouth and chin or smeared along the bridge of their nose? Why, all the better.
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