28.6 C
New York

There’s A Jesus On My Poptart


I always buy generic and store brands at the grocery. Very rarely does it taste vastly different from name brands, most of the time it’s the exact same product with visual deformities that have nothing to do with quality or taste. If the dollop of frosting isn’t exactly symmetrical, the Poptart is rejected, and sent from the shiny paper factory to the basic white wrapper warehouse. I feel smug paying two dollars less for my box of poor old ugly Toastees, and enjoying the same delicious goodness as the dummy who brand shops. There’s a life lesson here – just because something is unappealing on the outside doesn’t make it bad on the inside.

I’m partial to the strawberry frosted Toastees. I like the white frosting, they put pretty little colored sprinkles in it that run when you toast them, like a tiny Jackson Pollack painting. I grabbed a pack out of the cabinet last night and threw one in the toaster. I put the leftover in a plastic bag, to save it for later. When I laid it on the counter, I glanced at the smeary, irregular frosting and noticed Jesus. I tried NOT to notice Jesus, and realized there was totally a Jesus in Frosting on my Toastee. This is where you say, ‘Pics or it didn’t happen!’ and I say, ‘I got pics, y’all.’ If you don’t see a Jesus in Frosting on my Toastee, you never went to Sunday school.

So the next day, I go through the pics to choose the ones I’m posting with this article, and decide to take some more in the sunlight. I go look for the Jesus Toastee, and it’s gone. My daughter is sitting at the breakfast bar, and I ask her if she ate the Jesus Toastee.

“What do you mean? The Poptart on the counter with pictures on the bag? I thought Georgie just drew something on there.”

“You ate the Jesus Toastee?”

“I thought it was something George doodled on it, I didn’t know there was a real Jesus on the Poptart. I’m sorry, gah. I took it for breakfast.”

“You couldn’t see Jesus on that thing? I drew eyes and everything.”

“You did that?”

“Yes I did that. There was a Jesus on a Toastee. I even wrote it on the package. I’m glad I got pictures.”

“Yeah Mom, I’m glad you took pictures of a Poptart, too. Way to go.”

“Only someone evil enough to eat a Jesus Toastee would speak to their mother that way.”

“Well it didn’t make it taste any better, if it means anything to you.”


So my kid ate the Jesus on a Toastee, which could have been a National treasure, but here are the pictures of it, so you know I’m not crazy. Unlike some people around here.


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