“Did someone throw a Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich at my car?” I asked.
“There is Peanut Butter and Jelly on the side of my car,” I explained.
“What makes you think it’s Peanut Butter and Jelly?” asked my husband.
“It’s purple and brown,” I said.
“Did you taste it?” asked my son.
“Then how do you know it’s Peanut Butter and Jelly?” he wondered logically.
“I’ve been making Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches for you guys almost every day for about 14 years. I KNOW Peanut Butter and Jelly!”
I led the group outside to look at the evidence. There was a long swath of purple across the side of my car with brown streaks mixed in.
I figured it was either a Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich or I had run through a mud puddle and then hit Barney the Dinosaur on the side of the road.
“It wasn’t me. I had roast beef yesterday,” said my son.
“It wasn’t me. I had a bagel and cream cheese yesterday,” said my daughter.
“Looks like it was a drive-by Peanut Butter and Jellying, honey,” said my husband. I shook my head. Not only was I aggravated because I had just had the car washed the day before, but also because I knew that it was probably going to be a nightmare to get the stuff off the car. While Peanut Butter and Jelly tastes great going down, it is not as heavenly when it gets onto clothes, furniture and cars. Something about the combination seems to create a chemical reaction that turns it into the world’s stickiest substance. If scientists could figure out how to harness the sticky power of Peanut Butter and Jelly, they could probably use it to glue the polar ice cap back together.
While this was not the first time my car had been hit with some mystery goo, it was definitely the strangest. I wondered if it was my duty to report this to the police so they knew there was someone out there engaging in reckless Peanut Butter and Jelly activity. I wasn’t sure if a PB&J attack fell into the category of vandalism or mishandling of food. Maybe the police were not the right authorities to call. Perhaps I needed to report this to the Food and Drug Administration.
As I thought about my responsibility to the car driving population at large, and specifically those drivers in range of a Peanut Butter and Jelly throwing scofflaw, I saw my husband lean in to the car and flick at the purple stuff with his finger.
“It’s bird poo,” he said with assurance. “Look. You’re parked under a tree.”
“Ew!” shrieked the kids.
“Oh really?” I retorted. “I have never seen bird poo that color before.”
He shook his head. “It must have been a bird that ate a Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich.”
©2014, Beckerman. All rights reserved.
Save 15% when you order “Lost in Suburbia: A Momoir. How I Got Pregnant. Lost Myself, and Got My Cool Back in the New Jersey Suburbs” and “Rebel without a Minivan” together on Amazon! To get your copies, CLICK HERE