It’s 2002, and I’m up far later than my 9am class would encourage. I’m feeling a little lost and alone, suffering the dramas only a young man can conjure. My roommate, a fellow sitting about twenty feet away, behind his own closed door, sends me a link.
* * *
It’s 2008, and the conversation has found itself in an awkward pause. My wife suddenly asks the pixie on the couch a question, to which she receives a negative response.
“What,” she asks again, “you’ve never seen it?”
* * *
It’s last Tuesday, and I’m walking the autumn streets with the seven year olds. Their faces are sullen; they’ve just finished extravagantly explaining the opera that was their school day, which, unfortunately, concluded upon the rotten treachery of a classmate. It’s been a great walkabout until the tangent, and my mind moves quickly to save the moment.
“Hey, that reminds me, I wanted to show you something.”
It is Peanut Butter Jelly Time.