Steve was no ordinary Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich.

Crafted in a greasy kitchen in the depths of an American diner, he was destined to be the mother, or father even, of PB&J sandwiches.

There was just one problem; Steve wasn't anthropomorphic.
He wasn't even magical.
This title is all lies!

No anyways, where was I? Oh yes, in the kitchen, Steve did...absolutely nothing.
Zero.
Zilch.
NADA.

Nope, nothing at all, as you would expect from a 2 minute old sandwich being carried by a pimple red haired teenager into the sea of tables and chairs where a man sat, waiting for this sandwiches demise into the pits of his stom-

Ok this is all sounding FAR too posh we need to add...atmosphere!
SUDDENLY A DINOSAUR SMASHED THROUGH THE SIDE WALL!

Steve was flung out the window in surprise, into a garbage can that just so happened to be right outside the window in plain view.

"How lucky!" thought Steve, although he could not think for he was a sandwich and sandwiches do not talk.
Or do they? *DUN DUN DUUUN!*

*ahem*, anyways. As the dinosaur rampaged through the restaurant, Steve tried to take a look at his surroundings.

Alas, sandwiches do not have necks. Or eyes for that matter. Or nerves, or brains, or...you get it...

But Steve was no ordinary PB&J sandwich and he sensed that at this very moment, he was being driven away by a garbage truck.
There was an Italian restaurant to his left and he could sense that a famous plumber was in there, but he knew that plumbers weren't famous. Or were they?

Steve thought to ask someone later, even though he couldn't speak. Or think.
My, this story is getting complic-DID YOU JUST SEE THAT
WOAH I NEVER EXPECTED THAT

*ahem*

After this major plot development which totally did not include a car crash, an Italian plumber, his brother, a flying Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich and a cow, Steve found himself upon a roof of a hotel 437.3 stories high. Don't even ask how or why the decimal point came to be.

Anyways, he had found himself on Le Pont Blanc, a rather stupid name for a rather stupid hotel, as it was run entirely by monkeys.

Dressed as Miley Cyrus.

Could Steve survive 437.3 stories of bananas, twerking and plain outright silliness?

Steve didn't think so, because the moment he stepped inside the hotel, which is impossible because he is a sandwich, he was taken to the kitchen by a crazed lunatic known as Kirsten.

Kirsten tied Steve up. Steve didn't do anything.

Kirsten ate Steve. Steve didn't do anything.

Steve gave Kirsten a stomach ache. Kirsten cursed at Steve.

And so the magic of Steve the amazing peanut butter and jelly sandwich was turned into a curse by this "Kirsten".
And that's how stomach aches came to be!

Don't blame me for it being so entirely random, it was for Blog Day xD