My method of controlling my addiction to sugar focuses primarily on the embossed, round chocolate sandwich with the sweet white filling.
The Oreo attack seldom occurs at Circle K because I rarely go there.
I rarely go there because I know I’ll have an Oreo attack.
This beastly side of my nature makes itself known most often at Fry’s or Safeway (owned by Albertson’s which is owned in turn by Cerberus Capital Management which is named after the three-headed dog of Hades.)
My response is nearly always the same.
I buy the large family size Oreo package for five bucks and try to get home with my prize before opening. If I raid the bag of goodies on the bus-ride home I risk the danger of incurring the wrath of a diabetic driver angrily spouting the no-eating-on-the-bus rule and who weighs at least three hundred pound and may kill me for my Oreos if I fail to obey.
On my arrival at the Lee Broom Kitchen I quickly count out five Oreos and open the Oreo hole on the garbage disposal which I call The Cookie Monster, abruptly grabbing another five Oreos, then dumping the rest of the package.
I then open the faucet and flick the Oreo destruction switch and listen to the gurgling “thank you” from The Cookie Monster’s throat as the bulk of my prize flows into the kitchen’s intestines.
If you are wondering why I call this apparatus installed in my sink the Cookie Monster, nothing else has ever gone down that drain; I am a great vegan cook who eats every morsel of his five meals a day and who usually manages quite well, thank you, with one teaspoon of brown sugar on his morning oatmeal.
If you read about my Valentine cookies on Facebook four days ago, that particular day ended with an Oreo attack.
When I arrived at Circle K that evening the clerk greeted me with a smile. If you need your Oreos I keep a package for you here at the counter. How many bus tickets do you need?