The Great Sandwich Race

In the small town of Butterbean, nothing exciting ever happened. People liked their quiet lives, their sleepy afternoons, and their peanut butter sandwiches.

But one day, something very strange happened. The mayor, Mr. Picklefoot, made a wild announcement:

“This Saturday,” he said, waving a spoon, “we shall have the first-ever Great Butterbean Sandwich Race! Whoever makes the fastest, tallest, and tastiest sandwich will win a year’s supply of jelly!”

Everyone gasped.

Now, you should know two things about Butterbean:

The people loved jelly.

They were terrible at racing.

Still, everyone signed up. Even Grandma Tilly, who hadn’t moved faster than a turtle in ten years, said, “If jelly’s the prize, I’m in!”

Among the contestants were:

Kevin, a boy who once tried to toast bread with a flashlight.

Sally, who trained her pet goose, Pancake, to carry pickles.

Dr. Mustard, a mysterious scientist with a sandwich-shaped hat.

And of course, Bob, a local squirrel, who snuck into the race wearing sunglasses and a fake mustache.

The rules were simple:

Start with two slices of bread.

Run around town collecting sandwich ingredients.

Stack them as high as you can.

Return to the starting line without your sandwich falling over.

The race began with a loud HONK! from the mayor’s pickle-shaped horn.

Everyone dashed off.

Kevin ran straight to the bakery but tripped on a snail and landed in a basket of croissants. “Croissants aren’t sandwiches!” he shouted, tossing them like frisbees.

Sally ran to the pickle shop. Pancake the goose flapped around, honking and grabbing pickles with his beak. Sally balanced a giant jar on her head. “This is going to be the crunchiest sandwich ever!”

Dr. Mustard zoomed by on a scooter powered by mayonnaise. It left a slippery trail behind him. “Science!” he yelled as three people slipped and fell into a tomato cart.

Meanwhile, Bob the squirrel was causing chaos. He darted into the cheese store, grabbed a whole block of cheddar, and stuffed it into his backpack. The shopkeeper yelled, “Stop that fuzzy thief!” but Bob just squeaked and kept running.

Grandma Tilly was slow, but wise. She used a shopping cart to collect ingredients and glued her sandwich pieces together with extra-thick peanut butter. “Steady and sticky wins the race,” she whispered.

Back at the finish line, the mayor waited, eating a pickle and wearing a jelly crown.

One by one, the racers returned.

Kevin came back first—his sandwich was tall but wobbly. As he stepped over a banana peel, the whole thing toppled over like a meaty tower of doom. “NOOOOO!” he cried, landing in mustard.

Sally arrived next. Pancake squawked proudly, but one of the pickles slid off and hit the mayor in the nose. Disqualified.

Dr. Mustard zoomed in, doing a wheelie, but his sandwich was so full of weird ingredients (including spaghetti and glitter) that the mayor just said, “I’m not eating that.”

Then came Bob.

He strutted up, cool as a cucumber, holding a sandwich bigger than his body. It was perfectly balanced and included lettuce, cheese, olives, cookies, and—somehow—a single slice of pizza. The crowd cheered. But just before the mayor could declare him the winner, Bob’s mustache fell off.

“Wait a second!” shouted the mayor. “That’s not a contestant! That’s a squirrel!”

Bob froze. Then he jumped on the sandwich and ran off into the trees, giggling like a tiny bandit.

Finally, Grandma Tilly rolled in with her cart. Her sandwich was small, neat, and delicious-looking.

The mayor took a bite.

His eyes widened. “This... this is... the most amazing peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’ve ever tasted!”

And so, Grandma Tilly won.

The crowd cheered. Balloons flew. Someone played a song on a kazoo.

Grandma Tilly raised her trophy—a giant jelly jar—and said, “Never underestimate the power of peanut butter... and patience!”

From that day on, the Great Sandwich Race became a yearly event. People trained all year, squirrels were banned (but they still tried to sneak in), and Grandma Tilly became a town legend.

But everyone knew one thing for sure:

In Butterbean, you had to stay sticky, stay silly, and always, always watch out for sandwich-stealing squirrels.