The Real Story of the Oreo Saga

He who is not contented with what he has, would not be contented with what he would like to have.

You know who said that George (If that’s even your real name)? A man named SOCRATES… Heard of him?

20 years ago, I threw George a lifeline. I saw him there: bright eyed and bushy tailed, rocking some of the cleanest J’s that anyone in the 847 area code had ever seen. I want to say they were Bred 11’s, but I digress. Even with all these blessings, he was looking downtrodden. You know what 9-year-old me did? I threw George a bone… or rather, a cookie.

There I was, waiting for my mans to come into ear shot so that I could hook it up big time. I cleared my throat and found the corner of the house with the most booming acoustics. “Excuse me, Jack’s mom, can I have a cookie please.” Threw Jack and George a wink, but George didn’t notice. He was drawing the most life-like cartoon of Kirk Hammett riding a Tyrannosaurus Rex that I have ever seen in my life. That puppy deserved to be in the MoMA, damnit.

Jack’s mom, an angel, blessed us all with two cookies. Then, like a madman, George took 5 COOKIES. Vengeance was swift, but fair. George went from a spoil of riches to nothing in the blink of an eye. I felt for the man, but also I was a bit of a chubby boy, and the cookies I had been allotted were already gone. It was terrible. My olive branch of kindness had been poisoned by greed.

You all may be surprised to know this, but I was an extremely well-behaved child. Always with the manners; going out of my way to never inconvenience another soul. For goodness sake, I used to ride my bike everywhere so that my parents could vibe at home without a worry in the world. To that date I didn’t have a single enemy in the world. So, you all can imagine my surprise when I found that my bike tires had been slashed… and next to my bike… A PICTURE OF KIRK HAMMETT RIDING A DAMN T-REX.

That day, I vowed vengeance.

Did I serve this vengeance right away? No, I play the long game. Let it get real real cold.

I waited almost 20 years. I followed George’s career. When he worked teaching art classes, I paid the kids off to say disparaging things about Metallica and prog rock. I bought every shoe bot that I could find to make sure that George would NEVER be able to get another pair of fresh Bred 11’s.

Then, one day I decided that I needed to see the pain on his face, as I continued to systematically tear him apart for his bicycle-based transgressions. I learned his work schedule and the liquor delivery schedule over a month’s time. Then on his day off I went to his work and racked up a four-figure tab drinking beers and gifting beers to wait staff and patrons alike. My goal, inconvenience. The wheels were in motion, I could barely sleep that night.

The next day my father and I showed up at George’s work. With me I had a list of the beers that had been 86ed the night before. One by one I ordered the beers. Each time, George looked more dejected, it fed my soul that had been rotted 20 years prior. George, on my way out you said you saw me slip the bartender some cash. You were mistaken. You know what I slipped him George?

A perfectly drawn picture of Kirk Hammett riding a Tyrannosaurus Rex that had been drawn by a very talented, albeit, very misguided young man 20 years ago.

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