The Unpredictable Day when I Ran Out of Butter.
Butter in only the middle of your toast? FLABBERGASTING! Only having enough to coat one corner of your belgian waffle? UNBELIEVABLE! Here lies the tragic tale, of the tragic day, when my butter container....ran dry.
"Hey, Mom!" Shouted my 7 year old brother, Sylvestor, from the basement, "Did you get the 43.75 pounds of butter I need for my Art project?"
"Yes, of course. It's all in the... uh oh. Car."
Normally, this wouldn't be too much of a tragedy. Today was different though, it was a record setting high in temperature and it was only a week into May.
"Tweety!" My mom yelled to me. I put down the chicken burrito I had been disecting, "Will you go sprint to the van and get out the butter? It's an emergency!"
I highly doubt that a forming pool of melting butter is the worst thing that can happen in the world. I mean, heck, that butter could flavor an entire third world countrie's movie theatre popcorn for a year, give or take a few months. "Fine." I responded. So I slowly raised my slightly pudgy figure from the kitchen table and went out to the car for a rescue mission.
What met my eyes as I opened the trunk was an image I will unfortuantely never forget. Butter. That's all I could see. Every inch, every centimeter of the van had a coating of melted butter. The smell of butter usually makes my mouth water, but this, this was revolting. There was no saving this butter.
I walked back into the house and reported the bad news to my mother.
"You're joking, right? I only left it out there for what, three hours? Would you believe the low quality of the butter industry these days, I mean honestly..." My mother ranted on and on for about 45 minutes until my brother returned from his chess tournament with my dad.
"FIRST PLACE, SUCKERS!!!!" My brother attempted an evil laugh, entering the kitchen on my dad's broad shoulders with a blue ribbon in his hand.
"Honey..." my mom started, "I have some bad news..."
"What?" He asked, he didn't seem to concerned. His eyes glued to his prize.
"Well, it's the butter. You see, it's melted."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He yelled, his ribbon being released from his sweaty-germ-hands that he picks his nose with.
"I'm sorry, I'll get you some more, but I don't know if it can be by tomorrow."
My dad jumped in, "Well, I know what I'll be having on my toast tomorrow. How about you? Jam, or jam?"
"Yes, of course. It's all in the... uh oh. Car."
Normally, this wouldn't be too much of a tragedy. Today was different though, it was a record setting high in temperature and it was only a week into May.
"Tweety!" My mom yelled to me. I put down the chicken burrito I had been disecting, "Will you go sprint to the van and get out the butter? It's an emergency!"
I highly doubt that a forming pool of melting butter is the worst thing that can happen in the world. I mean, heck, that butter could flavor an entire third world countrie's movie theatre popcorn for a year, give or take a few months. "Fine." I responded. So I slowly raised my slightly pudgy figure from the kitchen table and went out to the car for a rescue mission.
What met my eyes as I opened the trunk was an image I will unfortuantely never forget. Butter. That's all I could see. Every inch, every centimeter of the van had a coating of melted butter. The smell of butter usually makes my mouth water, but this, this was revolting. There was no saving this butter.
I walked back into the house and reported the bad news to my mother.
"You're joking, right? I only left it out there for what, three hours? Would you believe the low quality of the butter industry these days, I mean honestly..." My mother ranted on and on for about 45 minutes until my brother returned from his chess tournament with my dad.
"FIRST PLACE, SUCKERS!!!!" My brother attempted an evil laugh, entering the kitchen on my dad's broad shoulders with a blue ribbon in his hand.
"Honey..." my mom started, "I have some bad news..."
"What?" He asked, he didn't seem to concerned. His eyes glued to his prize.
"Well, it's the butter. You see, it's melted."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He yelled, his ribbon being released from his sweaty-germ-hands that he picks his nose with.
"I'm sorry, I'll get you some more, but I don't know if it can be by tomorrow."
My dad jumped in, "Well, I know what I'll be having on my toast tomorrow. How about you? Jam, or jam?"
0 Comments
No comments yet!