The Dark Side of Being Fluffy

I want my sparkly hat and some Tim Horton's, and nobody gets hurt!

Hiya, Friends! Well, I said I wasn't afraid of being called "fluffy," and what do you know?  Now my fashions are reflecting such.  The last couple days, I've been wearing around skirts that are very fluffy.  It's a new thing for me, but I hafta say, I kind of like it.  They're not all scratchy or heavy, like you'd think a fluffy skirt would be.  They're just fluffy.

It must be what a marshmallow Peep feels like!  Except I'm not afraid somebody's going to come bite my butt off and stick the rest of me on a velvet painting of Elvis.

When you think of it in those terms, I betcha it's kind of dicey, being a marshmallow Peep!

Yes, that's better.  Thank you.

 I mean, you'd think it'd be all happy and sweet and sugary, given what it is that marshmallow Peeps are made of.  But I bet they have real concerns, not the least of which is getting their butt bitten off and having the rest of them stuck to a velvet Elvis painting.  That'd be just awful, don't you think, Big People?  That'd be almost as uncomfortable as being the fish in the McDonald's Filet-O-Fish commercial that sings about wanting the Filet-O-Fish back.

Could you imagine being that Peep, stuck to the velvet Elvis on the wall, and seeing the very person who bit off your butt and stuck you up there?  Maybe that person actually would have the nerve to sit right down on the couch under the velvet Elvis, even.  I bet that'd be just awkward.  Awkward as all get-out, Friends!

Yes, I'm feeling much more relaxed now!

But I bet that fate's not as bad for a Peep as getting left up on top of the refrigerator to get crunchy and stale.  I was reading on the Internet the other day that some people LIKE to do that to their package of Peeps.  They do it on purpose!  There's a whole method to it!

First, they cut a slice in the cellophane wrapper around the box the Peeps come in, and then they just put the Peeps up on top of the fridge to get all dry and hard and crunchy, and then they eat 'em!

I thought that was the weirdest thing I'd heard all day, and I thought for a minute the Internet was pulling my leg, on account of me being little and all, and looking gullible.  I bet the Internet LOVES to trick little, gullible-looking people, but I'll tell ya what: that's not me!  I am not as gullible as I look, by golly!  Not even a little bit!

You've gotta know whatcha want and be honest about it, Big People!

So I asked Mommy what she thought about letting Peeps  get all stale and crunchy on purpose, and she said it's true, and that she even likes them that way, sometimes.  She likes them the regular way, too, but she said letting them get crunchy is nice for variety's sake.

Friends, I'd be lying if I said that didn't flabbergast me, finding out my own Mommy would fiddle with the fluffiness of a marshmallow Peep, the very thing I think makes a Peep a Peep!

It also made me realize that it takes some real nerve to be fluffy.  So now I don't feel at all bad about setting out to be your fluffy destination on the World Wide Web.  I used to think it was all fun and laughter and crunchy sugar and marshmallows, to be fluff, but as it turns out, there's a dark side to being fluffy!  Strange things can happen to you!  You can get your butt bitten off and wind up on a Velvet Elvis, or you can get left on top of the fridge so you get all dried out and crunchy!  Or I betcha could even wind up on a skewer, getting roasted over a fire! 

And right now, I want my sparkly hat and another coffee!

Holy cow!  I'm starting to scare the fluff out of myself.  But none of those things is gonna happen to me, Friends.  I promise.  If somebody thinks they're gonna stick me on top of the fridge, I'll rappel down the side!  And if they think they're gonna bite off my butt and stick me to a Velvet Elvis, well, let's just say they'll get the surprise of their lives, by golly!  Yes they will!

As for me and how I like my Peeps, I like 'em nice and fluffy, with their crunchy, sparkly sugar, just like they were intended to be enjoyed.  Why mess with perfection, I say?  Why mess with it?