The Great Debate War

Thud. Thud.

The sound of footsteps broke the silence as the sun slowly rose over the hill. The Southerners waited in the valley, their grim faces showing none of the nervous tensions that ran through each person. Fear danced in the wind, surrounding the group like a bad smell.

The Northerners appeared at the top of the hill, surveying the group waiting for them in the valley. The procession was sombre, flags waving in the morning breeze. Like the Southerners, the Northerners too were grim. This was a day that would be remembered in history – each group could only hope they would be the ones to remember it. The Southerners waited with bated breath, fear swelling through them. This was it.

The approaching group paused at the foot of the hill and the two groups studied each other silently. Then, slowly, a person  separated from each group and approached each other, stopping at an even pacing between the Southerners and the Northerners. The Northerner spoke first. “Well.”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

The Northern spoke again. “Any chance you will reconsider?”

The Southern straightened haughtily. “There are some things that can simply not be changed. My people believe too strongly to surrender on this particular subject.”

“Oh.”

“Although we are willing to accept more people into our tribe...?”

“We, too, fight for something today. Our belief might be different, but it is just as strong.”

“Ah.”

They shuffled nervously. A toe stabbing the grass here, a hand ruffling their hair there.

“So...”

“Guess we'd better....”

As one they whirled around and started back towards their groups, heads lowered. Once they had reached their groups, whispering began as each tribe asked questions and each leader answered as best they could. When both groups could no longer delay for the sake of curiosity, they faced each other.

After a few moments, the leaders separated from the groups, again meeting in the middle.

“We are willing to negotiate. We have no wish to see harm befall you.”

“Nor us.”

“Then we agree. However, our belief is no less strong.”

The Northern agreed quickly. “No, no of course not. Ours, too, is strong,” he added as an afterthought.

“Okay. So here it goes. We stand firm to the belief that Peanut Butter is meant to be smooth. But, however, we will agree that in the case of certain foods, such as Peanut Butter Cookies, crunchy is acceptable.”

The Northern paused. “That is generous. Peanut Butter Cookies are one of the more popular food groups. However, we must say that Peanut Butter was originally created  with bits of peanut in it and thus we also must request that PB's and J's are allowed to be crunchy.”

“But smooth Peanut Butter melts on the tongue.”

“Ah, but many prefer to thoroughly enjoy the chewing motion of Peanuts.”

“Wise thoughts indeed, but is it not said by He who first tasted Peanut Butter, 'To enjoy Peanuts is sacred, to choke on lumps is unacceptable! Remove the lumps, you great big oaf!'”

“True, true. But is it also not said by He who first tasted Peanut Butter, 'Oy, this does not taste like Peanuts, better add some more. Well, if the machines broken, chop some up and throw 'em in!'”

They paused, studying each other warily, then, just before they could speak, a large shout went up from both groups. “The Westerners approach! They are walking with the Easterners!”

The two leaders whirled to face the intruders. The two new groups were indeed walking together, (although it was a distrustful partnership that manifested by both groups walking slightly sideways as they watched each other carefully.) As the groups neared, both the Southerners and the Northerners could hear the Westerners and Easterners arguing vehemently. “Is it not said, 'Take your seeds and shove it where the Jam don't shine?” An Eastern shouted.

The Westerners stopped. “Who?”

The Easterners stopped. “What?”

“Who said that?”

“He who first created Jam in Fruit Flavors!”

“Oh.” The Westerners seemed to ponder this for a moment. “Then it is also said, 'You made that up, you Jam Dishonorers!'”

Whilst the Westerners and Easterners were arguing, the Southerners and Northerners slowly moved closer to one another. It was done in a matter that if the other group noticed them moving, it was simply to look at this blade of grass there or perhaps better angle yourself into that patch of sunlight here. In the end, through no fault of either group, they were inexplicably right next to each other.

After a few minutes of thoughtless head-whacking and accidental shoving, the Westerners and Easterners seemed to remember what their purpose was and faced the Southerners and Northerners.

“Peanut Butter.” Those who believed in the righteousness of Jam muttered.

“And Jam sandwiches.” Those who believed in the righteousness of Peanut Butter finished the greeting. Then two leaders from each group, one from each tribe, met in the middle.

“For the record, I've always been a fan of crunchy Peanut Butter cookies!” The Southern hissed as they approached the Jammers. “Likewise, when chewing is too troublesome, smooth fits the bill nicely!” The Northern whispered in reply. Satisfied that, temporarily, the requirements of a truce had been made, the Peanut Butter enthusiasts stopped a few feet away from the Jammers. “To what do we owe this visit?” The Peanut Butter enthusiasts asked after a pause.

“It is rumored that the great Debate of Peanut Butter and Jam sandwiches has once again arisen.”

There were gasps around. “Dear Peanut Butter in Heaven, not that again.” The Northern muttered, then spoke clearly  for the Jammers to hear, “Was not the great Debate of Peanut Butter and Jam sandwiches fully reconciled when it was decided that Jam would be spread on one slice of bread whilst Peanut Butter is to be spread on the other?”

“Indeed. However, it has come to our attention that which ever slice is placed on top of the other would in fact be, the top of said Peanut Butter and Jam sandwich, therefore declaring superiority.”

“Ah, I see your dilemma. But is it not said by He who first tasted Peanut Butter, 'To taste Peanut Butter is divine, to taste Bread is foolish?'”

“Is it not also said by He who first created Jam in Fruit Flavors, 'What the heck is that supposed to mean, you loony?'”

“It means that clearly too much Jam would ruin the delicious nutty flavor!”

“And yet we have over twenty flavors!”

“Only because you don't have any taste! We have kept our Peanut Butter pure for centuries! You'd probably create some sort of... Macadamia Butter-  or Hazelnut!”

They all paused, staring at each other warily. “There would appear to be only one way to settle this.” The Jammers said carefully.

The Peanut Butter enthusiasts nodded slowly. “We will battle over superiority.”

“We will battle.”

As one the leaders headed back to their separate groups. This time, the Peanut Butter truce extended over the Northerners and Southerners completely, forming one group under the Peanut Butter banner. “Men... and ladies... it will not be pretty. Peanuts will be crushed, lives will be be Jammed. But it was said by He who first tasted Peanut Butter, 'Peanut Butter mixes splendidly with Jam. Indeed, Peanut Butter and Jam is one of Peanut's finest creations. However, one should always remember that although without the Peanut Butter the Jam has little, without the Jam the Peanut Butter has plenty!' and today we fight. For Peanuts, for Butter and so the world will know once and for all – Peanut Butter is by far the best choice for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and all the delicious snacks in between!”

The cheering was loud, the voices shrill. Then, as the calls slowly faded away, the sound of many jars opening was heard. Then came the sound of a hundred spoons slowly scooping out the various spreads. The Peanut Butter enthusiasts formed a line, jars in one hand, spoons in the other. Behind them, large catapults were being loaded with bread and Peanut Butter. Lastly, a small group held bushels of Peanuts in each hand, ready to move forward if their comrades should fall.

Opposite them stood the Jammers. Likewise, they also held jars in one hand, spoons in the other. But unlike the Peanut Butter enthusiasts, they formed ten lines, a different Jam Fruity Flavor at the head of each line. Behind them, the remaining ten Jam Fruity Flavors were being loaded into giant slingshots, along with the traditional bread.

The call was made.

Peanut Butter, both smooth and crunchy, was flung into the air. For a moment the sky was brown, then a Jammy rainbow of many Fruity Flavors spread over the sky. The toppings rained down, and from each group, mournful cries could be heard as heads were splattered, clothes stained.

As the first victims of what would be known as the Great Debate War toppled like tenpins, the two groups charged at each other, spoons furiously scooping out the beloved spreads before flicking them vigorously at the enemy.

The battle was sticky, both groups suffering grievous loss of topping.  At the end of the jars, the survivors stood amongst the sticky and stuck together and vowed that never again would Peanut Butter and Jam fight each other – they would, from hence forth, live peacefully between two slices of bread.

“And so they have, ever since then.” The Northern grandfather finished off the tale, then lent back in his chair with a contended sigh. Next to him, another Eastern grandfather also lent back in his chair. “But Grandfather,” a small Northern boy raised his hand cautiously, “no one won the Great Debate of Peanut Butter and Jam sandwiches!”

The grandfathers exchanged amused glances. “My dear child,” the Northern grandfather said in reply, “that is what the Great Debate War decided, tragedy that it was.”

“But it never decided which slice of bread would go on top.”

The grandfathers exchanged glances, this time worried. “Well...”

“I mean...”

They looked at each other long and hard, suddenly mistrustful.

“Of course, Peanut Butter...”

“Obviously, Jam...”

Slowly each hand reached for the condiment of their choice.

And then they reached for the spoons.