Planet of the Jakes: Plumps


“Daaaaad…”  Jakob whined one recent Sunday morning.  “Do we have any orange juice without any plumps in it?”

I stopped scrambling the eggs, not quite sure I heard what he said.  “What?”  I asked, furrowing my brow.  Probably for the 10th time that morning.

Jakob stood by the wide open refrigerator door, shaking a carton of orange juice. That probably didn’t have a lid on it.  He likes to tempt fate that way.  “Does this juice have plumpers in it?”

we're just making sure the kitchen stays cool.
we’re just making sure the kitchen stays cool.

I know, right?  Plump?  Plumpers?!?!?  I looked at the other kids sitting around the kitchen table, wondering if they caught it, too.  “Yes, dad.”  Natalia piped up, as if reading my mind.  “He said plumpers.”

I couldn’t help it.  I laughed.  I laughed hard.  I laughed hard and for a long time.

“Jake…it’s called ‘pulp’.  Not ‘plump’ or ‘plumpers’.”

“Whatever.”  He shrugged, shaking his head.

might as well get the strainer out.
might as well get the strainer out.

“We should totally start calling it that, though.”  Natalia said, still laughing.

“For real, dad.”  Sarah agreed, giggling.

Jake sighed heavily, clearly not amused.  “Can you just tell me if it has plumps in it or not?”  Leave it to Jakob, to stick with something, right or wrong.   Besides being from another planet, the kids’ not stubborn.  At all.

“No, Jake.  The orange juice doesn’t have any ‘pulp’ in it”.  Emphasis on “pulp”, fyi.

“Then why didn’t you just say that from the beginning?”  He replied, finally closing the fridge door.  “Geez!  It was a simple question!”

“I don’t know, Jake.”  I replied, turning back to the eggs.  “I don’t know.”

The kid can read, btw.  He could’ve easily just looked at the carton for himself.

the only juice worth drinking.
the only juice worth drinking.

And…for those needing closure…no.  The juice didn’t have pulp, plumps or plumpers in it.  That shit’s disgusting.  Who wants to drink that?  All that stuff gets stuck in your teeth worse than popcorn kernels.


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Fridge door:

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  1. Geeze, I thought I was the only one who left the fridge (I NEVER spell referiigerator because I always have to look the f’ing word up, and my essential tremor is on rapid-fire mode; who has time to stop?) door open, mainly to light up the kitchen during my nightly raids, as I am an infernal bat, but yes, also to cool this hell-hole of a house we live in.

    As to plumps, I drink that combo shit that Dole puts out, orange-pineapple, because that is sooo good and it brings my sugar up right quick, so I stop seeing God in an ice cube or a box of Cheezits or whatever. By the way, contrary to popular belief, OJ ain’t cheaper here in sunny Florida. It’s just as expensive and seems even more so, since this is a damn right-to-work state and everyone gets paid jack, so no one can afford OJ and they all have rickets or some shit. Florida really needs to get with the 21st century but that’s a post for my own blog. Great slice o’ life, as always! Mary xoxo