When the Mistress of Sarcasm was here the week before Christmas, she related to me a lurid tale, a tale of a Limited Edition Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup.
Limited Edition? you may ask. Wuzzat?
This wasn’t just any old Peanut Butter Cup, you see. It had banana creme in it...a tribute to Elvis Presley, the King hizzownself, who favored that unique combination of treefruit and groundnut.
A hunka hunka burnin’ Peanut Butter and Banana Goodness.
It’s an open question as to whether these chocolate-covered gems are any healthier than the King’s preferred method of PB&B ingestion: in the form of a sandwich fried in butter.
The Mistress told me that these things had sold like hotcakes, and that people were actually selling them on eBay. (I checked. They are.)
Imagine my pleasant, dumbfounded state of surprise, then, when we found an entire display of the damned things in the local CVS. Bought all of ’em, I did.
And I just may sell the ones we have left on eBay. The King would approve.
Limited Edition? you may ask. Wuzzat?
This wasn’t just any old Peanut Butter Cup, you see. It had banana creme in it...a tribute to Elvis Presley, the King hizzownself, who favored that unique combination of treefruit and groundnut.
A hunka hunka burnin’ Peanut Butter and Banana Goodness.
It’s an open question as to whether these chocolate-covered gems are any healthier than the King’s preferred method of PB&B ingestion: in the form of a sandwich fried in butter.
The Mistress told me that these things had sold like hotcakes, and that people were actually selling them on eBay. (I checked. They are.)
Imagine my pleasant, dumbfounded state of surprise, then, when we found an entire display of the damned things in the local CVS. Bought all of ’em, I did.
And I just may sell the ones we have left on eBay. The King would approve.
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