It was early as hell and Myron was having one of those mornings. The shower had run cold, the coffee was watery, and the toaster had burnt his bagel.
“Pectin!” said his jar of jam as he twisted off the top and spooned out a dollop of sweet stuff, being careful to put the top right back on.
Still, he was working now, and to be honest, opening the newsstand at the crack of dawn was great while he went back to school. Plus that cute girl Magda always came by at 8:45 and made eyes at him…
He mouth froze in mid-chew, coffee cup raised halfway to his fully bageled mouth, eyes darting to the small print on the jar.
Directly at the word ‘pectin’, the exact definition of which still eluded him in his 28th year on this planet.
He took a sip of coffee, then placed the cup on the table very carefully at the 2 pm position in front of his plate. He pulled the jam jar closer to him. He thought about Magda. She really was beautiful.
“Pectin!” it said, again, when he took off the top. He shut the jar again. Magda would think he was crazy if he told her about this.
“Pectin!” said the jar when he opened it again a third time. Magda must never learn of this.
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Myron grabbed a spoon and began digging out all the jam. “Pectin!” said the jar of jam as it lost its insides. “Pectin! Pectin! Pectin!”
And when all of the jam lay in a glop on his bagel, he ate it all.
That morning at 10:30, as he was trying to recover from the sugar crash he’d sustained from eating an entire jar of jam, Magda entered the store riding a centaur.
“It is done?” she said, pointing a scimitar at him.
He nodded, at a loss for words. She smiled. “You will be rewarded.”
She grabbed him forcibly, threw him on the back of the centaur, and they rode away to her basement apartment where she made rough love on him.
