Our story began a few nights back, as I privately delighted in a jar of Marshmallow Fluff. It wasn't my Fluff, rather a jar lent by a friend who forced me to promise that I wouldn't harm it. See, there's two types of Fluff. There's the edible kind -- that's the one most people are familiar with, and the kind of Fluff you're supposed to eat. This jar was the good luck kind. Touted for it's magical powers and sleek white-as-snow fortune slime, Good Luck Fluff is a granter of wishes that shouldn't be eaten unless you're willing to part with the supernatural angel on your shoulder.
I needed some luck, so I borrowed the Good Luck Fluff. It all made so much sense at the time, but something terrible happened. I have this really bad habit of 'catch-skipping' anything that's of value, which is to say, I happily skip around over hard surfaces while throwing my item of joy into the air and proceeding to catch it. Carbonated beverages are always a messy affair for me, but the little mishap with Good Luck Fluff was even worse...
I done broke the Fluff! When that glass shattered, my heart went right along with it. Good Luck Fluff isn't easy to come by, and in fact, we've got no idea where to buy it. It's been handed down in my friend's family for generations -- so many generations that it'd be plausible to spell it 'generationssss' as a time illustration. Point is, the stuff's irreplaceable. Edible Fluff rarely costs more than a buck for a whole jar, but Good Luck Fluff? Priceless.
Jesus, my friend was going to kill me if he saw this. You don't break someone else's Good Luck Fluff -- it's as bad as killing their beloved or fucking a donkey with their dick. I knew I was in some serious trouble, and the irony is, I didn't even have the powers of the Good Luck Fluff to save the day anymore. Once it's unsealed, its magical properties seep out into society and spread out evenly from person to person like the ultimate slice of buttered toast. I was screwed.
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Not wanting my friend to walk in and see the remains, I quickly removed all evidence of the incident. The way I saw it, it was better to have him believe that I just misplaced the Good Luck Fluff. True, he'd never get it back and would eventually catch on, but at least I'd extend my life by a few months.
I went to the cupboard to see if any of my friend's favorite comfort foods were in attendance. I was about to relay some seriously bad news...the least I could do was offer him a cookie. By some miracle, the cupboard presented what looked to be a solution for all of my Fluffy problems. I guess it takes a few minutes for the Good Luck Fluff pixiedust to run out of your system...
What seemed like just an ordinary jar of Manzanilla olives was, in truth, potential salvation. Look at that jar. Seem familiar at all? Yes, while not precise, the dimensions of the glass were very close to that of the Good Luck Fluff's container. My gears started turning and churning, and a devious plan soon hatched. If I played my cards right, maybe my friend wouldn't murder me after all.
Immediately, I emptied the olives into a glazed ceramic bowl and reserved them for later use. The jar itself still stank of pimentos, so I thoroughly washed it out with dishwasher soap until it smelled more like very clean pimentos. I wasn't satisfied, but now was no time to be a perfectionist. Soon, my friend would come calling for his magic charm. My plot was deceit-ridden and terrible, but if I wanted to stay alive, this was my only hope...
As for the olives? They went into the fridge -- I knew they wouldn't keep for long without their protective case and lifesaving salty juices, but whatever, olives are replaceable. Had I just broken my friend's jar of olives, it wouldn't be such a big deal. But no, I had to go and BREAKED DA FLUFF. Not the regular Fluff, either -- the magic Fluff. I cursed myself for the mishap, and then cursed myself again for wasting so much time wallowing when I should've been completing my mission. It's Good Luck Fluff that my friend was coming for, and by hook or by crook, that's exactly what he was going to get.
I was saving a big bag of Kraft's 'Jet-Puffed Marshmallows' for a camping trip in a few weeks, but this was an emergency. All the stores were closed, and these things were the closest I'd get to Fluff. I thanked God that Kraft wasn't lying when they guaranteed 'jet-puffed perfection,' because the marshmallows were definitely going to need the powers of jet-puffiness if they were gonna pass for Good Luck Fluff.
I crossed my fingers. They stuck together. Damn Fluff glue.
I can't remember just how many marshmallows I was able to fit into that empty olive jar, but there were a lot. Still, so far, so good. My plan was coming along just as I had hoped, and with any luck, I'd fool my friend into believing that his Holy Grail was safe and sound. The next step was by far the most risky, though. How do you turn regular marshmallows into Fluff? I could only think of one way, and there wasn't enough time on my side to dream up alternative methods. Shit hadda go in the microwave.
This part of the plan was filled with so many particulars and nuances. The jar was fairly cold, and I feared that the microwave's radioactive heating powers might shatter it even worse than the jar I previously fumbled. Plus, I didn't know about that lid -- could've possibly been the kind of metal that sparks in the microwave, ultimately causing massive mile-long explosions. On top of all of this, there was still an even more pertinent issue: would the marshmallows really turn into Fluff when heated?
Could it really be that simple? Surely there's more to Fluff than that. I stood there and debated the issue for a brief moment before realizing that I had no choice. My back was against the wall, and my friend's Good Luck Fluff was in the garbage. Covered in grimy coffee grinds, no less. I said a quick prayer, shut the microwave door, and hit the trusty 'minute' button. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
Tick tock tick tock TICK tock. Each second seemed more like an hour, and even with my eyes turned away in fright, I could hear the marshmallows sizzling. Would this actually work? And even it did, what kind of person was I? How could I justify doing what I planned to do? If you killed someone in my family, I'd be less insulted if you just told me the truth rather than presenting a mannequin which looked vaguely like the lost bloodline. The seconds continued counting down, and just before I lost all of my sanity, I heard the sound. 'Ding!' It was the most relieving 'ding' I'd ever heard.
Actually, it was more like a 'beep.' Most relieving 'beep' I'd ever heard.
PERFECTION! I have to admit, I was surprised with the results. The marshmallows merged together, forming what looked almost exactly like real Fluff -- same smell, same texture, same ability to hold bridges together when the construction team runs out of screws and bolts. Obviously, I wasn't finished quite yet. There's still the issue of the label. Even if the fake Fluff looked like real Fluff, my friend wouldn't buy it with that 'Manzanilla Olives' sticker. Something had to be done. Something tricky and decisively evil. Something involving Scotch tape.
I had enough foresight to save the remnants of the Good Luck Fluff's original label, and with a heavy heart, I brought myself to tape it over a jar of something that definitely wasn't good luck.
In the end, my fake Fluff didn't pass the test. My friend immediately noticed the torn sticker, and pointed out that no versions of Fluff have a gold tin cap. Shit, I completely overlooked that. He didn't kill me, but yeah, he was pretty disappointed. Upon inquisition, I admitted to my 'catch-skipping' sickness and apologized repeatedly for the accident.
"But why couldn't you just tell me the truth?" I really didn't know how to answer that. In all my years of lying, I'd never been asked that question. My mind drew a blank. I could see that he was more angry with my behavior after the incident than with the incident itself, and worried that I had stepped a little too close to oblivion. To ease his mind, I offered him the one good thing that could come from breaking someone's jar of Good Luck Fluff and trying to cover up for it with a fake...
I explained how to make little aliens out of marshmallows and olives. Miraculously, he loved the idea enough to let me live.
