It was a normal day in my house. I was sitting by my computer, looking at some memes. Just then, I went to the kitchen for a midday snackaroo. I was achin' for some steak-in'. I looked in the cupboards again, and saw a jar labeled "P-Nuts!".

I picked up the jar, and it was empty. So then, I shattered it over my head, commenced screaming like an ape, and smothering jelly on on my body. Then I remembered. It was strawberry jam. I cried in a fetal position for 20 minutes. I got up afterwards, and looked in the cupboard again. There it was. The same P-Nuts jar as before. But, I already shattered it off my head!

I did the exact same thing, and the same thing continued to happen. So then, I changed my plan, as 30 consecutive jars were beginning to give me brain damage. I stopped, and consoled the jar. The jar thanked me, and we went on with our life. Now, after 60 years, the jar and I have been happily married since. Moral of the story is this. Love your jars, or die slowly.