I kept running out of jelly before peanut butter and always ended up eating peanut butter sandwiches.
One day in the street I confronted the neighborhood cook: “What’s going on? I always run out of jelly first.”
At first he seemed like he wanted to help. “There’s less jelly in a bottle so you have to use relatively less per sandwich if you want to run out of both at the same time, unless you buy relatively more jelly bottles.” Here he strangely raised his voice and said bitterly “or perhaps you’ve been eating jelly at odd times without peanut butter because it is so sweet.”
I was incensed. “Who elected you neighborhood cook!” I yelled but he had run into the woods. Later I calmed down and made a point of sending him a popular book on mushrooms as a gesture but it was sold out.
Sometimes now in the store when I buy jelly with Splenda I reflect on these events. “Is everything okay sir?” busybodies ask as I stare into rows and rows of jelly and I’ll study their faces closely and fart quietly and say I want to make robots that know joy.