Words and Thoughts — June 13, 2024

Hello again, alleged readers! Normally I don’t make my own butter. It’s too much work. Many butters are available in stores, and getting those is little to no work, unlike the much work involved in the making of butter. Shea butter and cocoa butter are not butters I enjoy, however most other butters… chef’s kiss.

Last Tuesday, I was in a store searching for, among other things, butter. Unable to find butter, I left Best Buy. Should call it “BEST not go here if you’re looking to BUY butter”.

I tried one more place after BNGHIYLTBB. The Laser Tag place also did not have butter. More like, “Don’t expect to put butter under the LASER scanner and be able to scan the TAG that says ‘butter'”.

Obviously, some sort of butter heist had occurred. I called the HR lady at work, because she would be the person I would most expect to steal the entire local butter supply. As soon as I questioned her, she started deflecting with inane questions like, “Why aren’t you at work?”; and she also reminded me that she’s lactose intolerant. Of course, how could I have forgotten? No one in the office doesn’t remember the time when her quadruple quadruple medium coffee was made with cream instead of almond milk. She was not the butter thief, which meant the real thief was still at large. Put differently, there was now a new face on the Mount Rushmore of at-large things: bigfoot, chupacabra, D.B. Cooper, Brett Hull, and now the butter thief.

So, I called INTERPOL. I told the woman who answered the phone, who we’ll call Moira Fragünda (because I immediately forgot her actual name after she told me, and therefore I called her Moira Fragünda for the rest of the call), that there had been a major terrorist attack in the form of a large scale butter heist. I said, “Moira Fragünda, it’s bad here, real bad! There’s no butter. Someone came in and took all the butter, and now there’s no butter”, and “Moira Fragünda, you and your crew at INTERPOL have to get in your van and find the butter thief right now! I already checked and it wasn’t the HR lady who did those awful things to the bathroom after the coffee creamer mix-up. You gotta help, Moira Fragünda!”

Right around that point in the conversation, the Laser Tag employee told me he needed the phone back. But I felt I had given INTERPOL the necessary info. Then I spent what would have been my butter money on a few rounds of laser tag.

But look at where we are this week, alleged readers! As I’m sure you’ve noticed, butter is back! Not wanting to interfere in an active investigation, I refrained from going out and looking for butter. But earlier this week, while I was out in the front lawn, trying to make my own butter in one of the buckets that my neighbor’s pool chlorine tablets come in, that same neighbor came out and asked me what I was doing. After a brief dialogue, he asked why I wasn’t just buying my own butter. Could it be? Could the case have been cracked? Was butter back?

Covered in half churned milk, I raced to the nearest convenience store. Alleged readers, it was beautiful. Butter was back!

Thanks, Moira Fragünda!