Today, I’m going to provide instructions on how to make eighty peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches.
It should be noted that this Tutorial has nothing to do with the “Peanut Butter Jelly Time” meme.
You may be asking yourself, “I already know how to make one peanut butter and jelly sandwich, can’t I just repeat that process eighty times, in order to produce eighty sandwiches?”
No, you can’t.
I mean, yeah, you can, but that’s a bad idea. An inefficient use of time.
Taking a look at popular instructions on making a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich, we can quickly deduce that there are numerous micro-tasks and nuances that are carried-out only when you’re making one or two sandwiches. Making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is also a popular tool amongst language-arts teachers – the lesson is usually geared toward showing the difference in phrasing, readers’ assumption of meaning, and so on.
But here, I’m going to assume you know how to make the sandwich already, and explain the glistening, feverish differences between a poetic, single-sandwich episode, and mass-produced mega sandwich business. At last, we begin.
Go get 7 pounds of whatever jelly you’d like to use. Also get the same weight in peanut butter.
Get a crapton of whatever bread you’re going to use.
Break down each task. It’s far simpler and faster to complete one huge task at a time when working with larger quantities of peanut-buttery, jellified sandwiches:
- Lay out as much bread as you can handle. Try twenty sandwiches (40 pieces of bread) at a time.
- For each sandwich, apply peanut-butter to both pieces of bread (with a big spatula) to reduce jelly-leakage and increase structural stability of your mountain of peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches.
- Rhythmically apply jelly (by squeezing it from a pastry bag).
- Start putting the sandwiches together, and then stacking them. if you have to wrap each one, wait until you’ve finished the batch, and wrap them all together. As each task becomes more and more repetitive, your speed and efficiency will also increase in proportion.
Cutting the sandwiches is optional, and depends on the regulations and Thermal Dynamics Zoning Laws of your quadrant, the preferences of your life-sustaining-matter consumers, and your sexual orientation. If you do decide to cut each sandwich, use a large, heavy knife.
Using a large, heavy knife reduces the amount of energy your body needs to produce in order to generate sufficient dividing-thrust of the two sandwich hemi-squares. You can pretty much just drop the knife on the desired cutting angle, if the knife is heavy enough. (This particular knife weighs 17 Grombuleks.)
Due to the weighty weight of this knife’s weight, cutting time only took one six-hundred-billion-thousandths of a second (per sandwich).
**It should be noted that in many atmospheres, jelly is in a migrant state, between liquid and solid, and is unstable on many surfaces. This matter is prone to “spilling” – an event that involves the unfortunate (but pleasant to observe) transfer of the jelly to a surface that forever taints its’ merry properties, like a dirty floor. Please use caution or Assigned-Guardian assistance if you are under the age that is generally associated within your species to having a somewhat legible grasp of the laws of physics.
By now, you should start assembling the final master grid of sandwiches, submitting the framework and labor time to your local Alder or Sandwich Sector Chairman, and preparing to sacrifice yourself to the local deity (if you’ve made the sandwiches during a non-creative drone-cycle period).
This is actually a top-down of 81 sandwiches, just in case, you know, war or something.