The peanut butter cup takes lots of time

“Instant gratification takes too long.” 
– Carrie Fisher
 
T
here is that segment in society that wants whatever it is that they want right now! I have also been guilty of this demand for instant gratification, and it was disastrous. Now, for those in this group, you can skip ahead to the end of this column and simply read my last sentence. You will have satisfied your instant-gratification need by knowing what I’m intending to tell immediately.
For the rest of you, we get to laugh together. I’m going to write the most random line at the end of this column that has nothing to do with the rest of the story. Only those who have taken the time and enjoyed the process of diving headlong into my ridiculous account will get the joke. I don’t do that to be mean, mind you. I do it because … well, because … um …, okay, I do it to be mean! But I was put into that mood against my will. 
You see, I ran into somebody the other day who asked me a question. But I had to think about my answer. It was a tough question, and I didn’t want to look like a fool giving the first stupid answer I could think of. I also realized that my answer, if not thought out well, could have offended that person. I didn’t want to do that, at least not right away. I wanted to give plenty of thought and time so that I could offend the person in a way that would have taken them an hour or so to realize they had been insulted. There was a desperate need for that person to participate in delayed gratification, and I wanted that to happen immediately! So, I thought about my answer. But I guess that thinking for two seconds was too long for this cretin to wait.
“Hey!” I was asked almost immediately. “What do you think?!” 
There was an unmistakable tone of impatience in that voice. In the back of my mind, I could hear the wicked witch of the west yelling, “And your little dog too!”
My initial reaction was to shout back, “I think I’m going to keep my answer to myself!” Instead, I looked this person right in the eye and calmly gave a more reasoned answer. “None of your business,” I said. I didn’t even use an exclamation mark in my answer, just a period. However, the look I got was worth it in the end. Rarely can eyes convey irritation, surprise, hatred and plain old arrogance as thoroughly as those two blazing orbs did. The memory of that image is one that I will cherish for the rest of my life. 
I just love to irritate irrational people.
Why are we so eager to embrace the need for instant gratification? It doesn’t go down as good as waiting for a better thing to manifest itself. Case-in-point: peanut butter cups, especially after you refrigerate them for a while. I mean, it’s fantastic when you stick them in your mouth, and I can stick one of those massive ones in my mouth all at once. As they warm up and melt, I get the best tactile stimulation on my tongue. I don’t just chew them up into some paste right away. I let them melt slowly. They don’t melt over hours, but it does take a minute or two. I actually think that if it took hours, that would genuinely be too long. 
As you can tell, I love peanut butter and peanut butter cups. Now I feed my dogs peanut butter from time to time. But it is hard to watch them lick and lick for minutes on end, their chops going up and down a million times. Their gluey brown-coated tongues thrust way out over and over again to get the sticky stuff down. My own jaw starts to hurt for them! I couldn’t imagine having that happen to myself for that long. It shouldn’t take longer than a minute or two. On the other hand, my dogs will take another spoonful immediately upon finishing the last one, if not sooner. But they’re dogs and stupid.
But there is a necessary delay to fully enjoy a peanut butter cup. I know this because once I tried to rush it. I wanted that instant gratification. I went into the convenience store, pulled a peanut butter cup off the candy shelf and took it to the counter. 
Now, I bought creamy peanut butter cups because chunky peanut butter is only for cookies. I have a valid argument for those who disagree with me that should clear this issue up. After all, I’ve heard this controversy for years now, and it exists even in my family of origin. Smooth peanut butter is the best. Jiff. Of course, it’s Jiff. Peter Pan is just polluted oil. I also refrigerate my peanut butter because the texture gets a little bit firmer. My sister, on the other hand, likes chunky. And she likes it at room temperature. My job is to convince you, my beautiful readers, why creamy peanut butter at about 38 degrees is better than room temperature chunky. (Did you see that, Veigh? I called them beautiful. Now they’re on my side, and there’s nothing you can do about it!) The reason I’m right is simple. My sister is wrong! It’s as easy as that.
It’s like the issue about whether your toilet paper roll should be a butt-flap or a loincloth. It’s supposed to be a loincloth. Same reason. Because I’m right, and the butt-flap people are wrong.
See how easy that was?
Let’s get back to the peanut butter cup. Remember, this is a story about peanut butter cups. Well, actually, it is a story about instant gratification. Still, as a symbol, you can, whenever you read the words “instant gratification,” insert in their place the words “peanut butter cup.” It’ll do.
I paid for the peanut butter cups, and as soon as I put my change in my pocket, I shoved the candy in my mouth. I didn’t even take the wrapper off. I just charged ahead, filled my gaping hole, and started to chew. Instant gratification?
I can assure you that it was not good. Experiencing the properly laid-out, planned, prepared and executed delayed gratification would have been a whole lot better. It’s much better to put it in the refrigerator. Then, when you’ve got it cooled down, you peel off the wrapper. Don’t forget to remove the paper cup. That paper is just too chewy. Then pop it in your mouth and let it melt. It’s okay to swallow the wonderful stuff. That’s part of the process of delayed gratification. 
I think I’ve closed the book on this argument. What do you think?
“Hey!” I ask you, “What do you think?!”
Planes don’t go nearly as high as the space shuttle does.