This story was written for a contest. I ask that you, please, do not judge my writing abilities by this. it took all of ten minutes, and is only meant for a good laugh. As always, happy reading =)

The Great Affair 

(c) SP Parish 2012

She lied. After all those years sticking by her...

I can t believe it.

We were as close as monkeys and bananas.

...as Eskimos and igloos.

...as Mc Donalds and french fries.

...as peanut butter and jelly.

Wait...

...we were Peanut Butter and Jelly.

Was it because I was purple instead of red? Grape instead of Strawberry? How could she have done this to me? We were so close for all those years! Produced so many beautiful children. The perfect combination in so many ways...

It didnt matter if you swirled us together, or kept us on our serparate sides of the sandwich; on crackers, pita bread, tortillas.

We were great in every way. Made a statement everywhere we went, and were as reliable as your favorite puppy.

And man, I loved her. Everything about her. Her red cap, her smooth brown skin. 

No! I didn't mind that she didn't have the curves of Chunky over there.

... or that she wasn't hip like Jiffy Natural.

When Mayo and Soy Sauce said she was plain, I didn't believe it. I couldn't see it. It was love at first sight. I thought she was beautiful. She took my breath away, made me drop my preservatives.

In the beginning, she was hard to win over. Kind-of stiff at first. But, after a little work, she began to take a liking to me. After a while, she melted in my arms.

And what beautiful music we made together!

We were a hit.

Everyone wanted to be us: Peanut Butter & Jelly.

Eat your heart out, Ketchup and Mustard!

We settled down, found some prime real estate-we had a great view of the vegetable crisper-and had a lunchbox full of beautiful children.

Life. Was. Grand.

Sooner or later though, and I can say it now--hindsight is 20/20 afterall--she began to be gone more and more often.

I would come home to out shelf, and she would still be gone: making cookies with Sugar and Flour, working alone with an entire box of Ritz, or topping a cake.

I can admit it, my Peanut Butter was more popular that Mr. Grape Jelly, III.

But, my manhood was not hurt. I supported her in whatever she did. I was proud of my love, of my little, sweet Peanut Butter. It was no surprise everyone loved her and was fighting for her time--for a piece of her.

We coped by stealing little moments when we could. Even after the lights went out if we had to. Things eventually may have even gotten a little rocky, but they were alright overall. I thought.

Alright, that is, until he moved in.

Tall, dark and handsome with bulk in all the right places, he took the empty spot in the shelf right next door.

Soon, all our conversations became about Chocolate.

"Why can't you be more like Chocolate?" she would ask. "Chocolate would have helped Milk out with his allergies," she'd say.

He was the source of all out arguments. The reason for all out angst. I was walking on eggshells in my on Shelf! Nothing I could ever do met the standards of Mr. Chocolate next door.

It went downhill from there. 

He started dropping off presents at our Shelf: cookies, cakes, and once he even convinced Milk to lend his some of his goods, and somehow got a message up to Vanilla Ice Cream in the freezer. The next thing we knew, there was a little Shake on the door step.

Of course, Peanut Butter wanted to keep it. Even though we didn't have a yard for it to live in, or food for it to eat (I had to take a trip all the way to the pantry one night for the stupid thing), I agreed because it just made her so happy. She even tied a bow around its neck; took it everywhere we went. It was all she ever talked about, how sweet Chocolate was. 

I began to hate Chocolate and his velvety richness.

But not Peanut Butter, nooo...

One day, after coming home for lunch, my good friend Mayo pulled my to the side. He and his wife, Low-Fat Mayo, lived in the Shelf next to ours.

"Look, Jelly, I've got some bad news..." he started.

After he was finished, I was stricken with sadness. "No! not my Peanut Butter! Things aren't great, but never that!"

"I saw it with my own eyes, man. Sorry."

I ran home, waiting for Peanut Butter to get off of lunch duty. It was hard for me, but I confronted her with the accusations Mayo had made.

Her eyes got as round as the milk saucer. She was hurt! Tearful that I would say such things.

"Chocolate?" She said through tears, "You think I would cheat on you with Chocolate?! But, I'm Peanut Butter and you're Jelly! We are the perfect pair!"

Guilt cascaded down upon me, but--and I was ashamed for it, but--it was mixed with relief. She's still my beautiful Peanut Butter, I thought.

We made up that night. It looked like we were back on track: Peanut Butter and Jelly. All was right with the world.

Nine months later, I came home to see my beautiful wife rocking a little bundle in blue-- 

My heart lept! A baby! How exciting!

But upon hearing me at the door, her head jerked up. When she met my eyes, her smile immediately slipped to sadness. Tears filled her eyes. She pulled the blanket down to show me the new pride-and-joy.

And my heart sank. It was a little Reese's Cup.

*** 

I moved out after that, found some space in the back next to the Leftovers. Not exactly prime, but it will work until something else comes up.

Life is lonely without my Peanut Butter. Every now and then I catch glimpses of her snuggled up close to Chocolate before the light goes out, and my heart breaks all over again.

Most days, I sit in the back of the fridge thinking about all that went wrong. What could I have done differently to..?

My thoughts are interrupted.

"Excuse me," says a female voice next to me. "I'm Nutella. Is this spot taken?"

For the first time in months, I smiled. Maybe life was looking up.