Famous Amos Cookies – Pure Evil in a 3-ounce bag

As an office worker, I have to combat fatigue through any means necessary. One course is to snack during the day. I know calories add pounds to my butt, mostly because I sit on it all day. So I know I should be eating healthy. Sometimes I even bring healthy snacks from home. Cut up oranges, applesauce, and varied pieces of vegetables – crudités if you will. Delicious, nutritious, and readily available, I feel prepared for the day.  However, I swear from halfway across the building I can hear them calling to me. My healthy intentions are forgotten in a chocolate-seeking frenzy to follow.

Famous Amos Chocolate chip cookies in a three-ounce size, their product displayed almost pornographically on front of the crinkly bag. Their special recipe in bite-size provokes the subtitle. By now I am shaking with need. Since 1975, Famous Amos cookies have been produced in Battle Creek, Michigan. I realize this was all an evil Midwest master scheme to cause the downfall of the American people, starting with me. Their delicious chocolaty chunks and chips together with cookie batter cooked to irresistible crisp bite-sized cookies. It’s disgusting but I can fit three of these diabolical mini cookies on each side of my mouth and bite down. The resulting crunch could disturb your coworkers, not to mention the drool. My dry cleaner hates me. 

To truly understand the magnificence of the Famous Amos Cookies, you have to open the bag carefully, after emptying the cookies within mere seconds. Tear gingerly down the seams to display silvery lining. There, cookie crumbs cling like mold. But nothing saves them. Lick the inside wrapper carefully and methodically to get all the delicious cookie crumbs from this three-ounce bag. Note: many crumbs are trapped in the bottom seam of the bag, as well as the top beveled opening. 

Soon, I realized I was looking forward to going to work for all the wrong reasons. I would ‘visit’ the cookies in the vending machine as soon as I arrived, assuring myself they would be available for me to feast on them later. In the beginning, I had the strength to decline purchase before 9 a.m., but eventually, I realized my pocket change was dwindling, and my backside increasing. There must have been a connection, but at this point, I was buzzing too much from the chocolate high to use logic. My trash bin overflowed with empty wrappers, desiccated corpses tumbled in a heap, defeated soldiers in my battle with yummy deliciousness. 

My relationships with coworkers deteriorated. My communication skills devolved to grunts through the crunchy chocolaty goo in my mouth. Of course, I didn’t know I had a ‘problem’ until my supervisor caught me snorting cookie crumbs from between my keyboard keys. In only nine more weeks my counselor says I will be through all my steps. 

Damn you Famous Amos cookies! Your special recipe in a bite-size caused my downfall.  I fear you will lead to more casualties in this obvious plot to addict the American people to your deliciously evil product. 

Now, if you will excuse me, I must go to a meeting of cookie-holic’s anonymous. We have a special guest speaker tonight, the cookie monster.