...in the old abandoned P.B. Crisps factory, where I eagerly held up a hose attacted to the "peanut butter creme" machine and insisted that he do a video challenge of him gulping down as much peanut butter as he could possibly comprehend until the P.B. Crisps factory reopened, while I catch the action on film using my special, remote-controlled camera drone. Mr. Peanut seemed confused and wasn't sure he could do it at first - but at the same time, his job as everybody's "WingNut" was always to have people's backs, not just give them snacks. And never talk smack. Even if the word "wingnut" implied otherwise.

So he nodded firmly, gracefully snatched the hose from my tiny, sweaty palms and pulled out a sign, which he waved with pep and pomp: "Let's get nutty!!!" And soon, he was determined to chug as much peanut butter as he possibly could. He ever-so-gently placed a lithesome hand on his belly as he felt the light-brown cream fill it up like a jar. So far, so good. Soon, he found that hand running itself all around his lower half. That lower half of his was beginning to grow. Even better...

He gently placed his increasing thiccness down onto the ground, his legs beginning to spread as the struggle began. his belly ballooning in front of him, his rump increasing in size from behind, at an uncontrollable rate, he almost felt as though he was in a wrestling match with a tidal wave of peanut butter. It was truly CRUNCHTIME.

So he pulled out his next sign: "Your WingNut could use some help...". Then he smiled coyly at me...

~To be continued~