Oatmeal Cream High

My mother is an instigator. You see, last weekend while I was in Midland, or Shangri-la as I like to call it, my mother bought me Little Debbie's Oatmeal Cream Pies. I haven't had one of these lovely, tasty, orgasmic little snacks in quite a while and now that I partook in one I just can't stop.

What is in that cream? How did they mass produce pleasure and make it into a creamy white substance? Wait, that came out wrong. Why is it that when it hits my tongue I just want more and more? Oh, Debbie! Why did you make them so small? I have had two already today and I want another. My will power is holding out for now, but I can only lick the wrapper for so long and I will have to break into my desk stash for another. If I can hold out until 5, I just may make it...Nope, I didn't make it.

Debbie, why do you plague me with your sweets? I just can't stop. You are just like all the other women in the world. You look so wholesome but underneath I know that there's a Little Devil under that bonnet.

That is all,

Newt