"Steve Can't Believe It's Not Butter!" by Sean McBride

Steve Can't Believe It's Not Butter
by Sean McBride

The other day I was eating over my friend's house, and his mom had whipped up a good eat, which we were enjoying most unabridgedly, complete with a salad that had dressed itself that morning and a peculiar condiment called "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter!" Being whatever it thought it was, it certainly wasn't trying to be peanut butter, which was a kind and generous thing for my good

friend, Steve, who is mortally afraid of nuts because he thinks that eating a single one will undoubtedly kill him, which, I suppose, is a fair and splendid view on the little buggers if you asked me, but that is not important because it wasn't Steve at whose house I was a dinner guest. I was a guest of the salad, although the owners of the house would have me believe otherwise, and it transpired into an awkward display when the father asked me for the "Not Butter" and I passed him the salad.

When he declined, the salad got very insulted and made me dump itself on his head and it got so upset that it made everyone leave

while it wept soggily on the floor in two hundred million pieces, and I say to you, young nincompoop, would you have rather passed him the "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter!" knowing very well that it couldn't have possibly contained nuts, which are only withheld from Steve and also knowing that Steve's nickname is "The Cougar," and that his mom has a really hot convertible which she won't let him drive just because he doesn't have any kind of driver's license, not even a permit? I didn't think so.

Now pass the nuts.

Sean McBride just met his year-long goal of getting any one of his magazines to last till Issue 2. Next, he will attempt to cross the English Channel by unicycle, immediately followed by a razzmatazz where he will juggle five lit torches behind his back. It will take him the next four years to recover at Penn State.

Suicide Note

A Complex Conversation