He whisper-sings the punch line. “Toot toot, peanut butter.”

Little peanut sitting on the track

Her heart was all a-flutter

Along came a choo-choo down the track

He pauses, nudging me, and whisper-sings the punch line. “Toot toot, peanut butter.”

MILK’S ABOUT TO SOUR BY AMY PURCELL 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 14

The locomotive comes hissing and clanking up the rails, gliding to a stop in front of us. And because it’s…

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