PB & J By Wakefield Mahon

The
slamming door rattled the windows.
"Where the Hell are you, woman?"
Jasmine took a deep breath before she answered.
"I'm in the living room, Darryl. You don't need to scream."
"Shut the hell up and make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."
She put down the book that she was reading. The edges of her mouth turned up slightly as a hint of mischief lit up her eyes.
Thunder pealed and the house shook.
Jasmine picked up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the midst of a pile of overalls, a wife-beater and a John Deere cap. She took a bite and wrinkled her nose.
"Still nasty and bitter"
She threw the sandwich in the trash, gathered up the clothes on the floor, neatly folded them and put them in her Goodwill pile. Jasmine returned to the living room,sat down with her tea and finished reading her book, "Discovering your Inner Woman: Empowerment through Wicca".
[Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Practitioners of Wicca do not actually turn men into sandwiches, although at times, they might wish they could.]
"Where the Hell are you, woman?"
Jasmine took a deep breath before she answered.
"I'm in the living room, Darryl. You don't need to scream."
"Shut the hell up and make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."
She put down the book that she was reading. The edges of her mouth turned up slightly as a hint of mischief lit up her eyes.
Thunder pealed and the house shook.
Jasmine picked up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the midst of a pile of overalls, a wife-beater and a John Deere cap. She took a bite and wrinkled her nose.
"Still nasty and bitter"
She threw the sandwich in the trash, gathered up the clothes on the floor, neatly folded them and put them in her Goodwill pile. Jasmine returned to the living room,sat down with her tea and finished reading her book, "Discovering your Inner Woman: Empowerment through Wicca".
[Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Practitioners of Wicca do not actually turn men into sandwiches, although at times, they might wish they could.]