HALLOWEEN OREOS


Have you ever had a Halloween Oreo?

It’s possible that you think you’ve had a Halloween Oreo. 

Maybe you worked as a classroom snack parent and snuck one behind the crayon corner. Maybe you only had one a year as a kid because your family hated fun. Maybe you mindlessly nibbled on one at a depressing office party. Maybe you think these small, meaningless moments count.

These do not fucking count.

This is not for you.

Get out. You are not welcome here.

…Anyway.

If you have truly had a Halloween Oreo, you know

You know what it’s like to see them proudly displayed in a Target and gasp out loud, stumbling in your tracks.

You know what it’s like to stick your arm behind a whole shelf of blue packages, swooping them gracefully into your cart.

You know what it’s like to shut yourself in your pantry and rip that seal open for the first time all year, feeling intoxicated by the sugary goodness wafting up at you.

You know what it’s like to shakily pour yourself a glass of milk, trying to steady yourself for what’s to come.

You know what it means to BITE INTO A HALLOWEEN OREO and eject yourself into a fluffy orange paradise. The chocolate walls fall into a soft cloud of a flavor that is familiar yet utterly a mystery, enveloping you in a warm hug of nostalgia mixed with a surge of serotonin. 

My brothers and sisters, I understand you. There are so many others that do not.

Some people think it’s fine to spout irreverent lies, saying things like Birthday Cake Oreos and Red Velvet Oreos run circles around our seasonal sensation.

And what do we say to those people?

We say, “Fucking fight me.”

We say, “I will find out where you live.”

We say, “I will kick in your door in the middle of the night and stuff a whole sleeve of Halloween Oreos in your goddamn mouth.”

We say, “I will drag you into the street to show the world what a fool you are.”

We say, “I will scream your name to the heavens, and say, ‘THIS BLASPHEMER THINKS THEY’RE BETTER THAN HALLOWEEN OREOS!’”

No one is allowed to disrespect one of the very few joys we have left. 

This Godforsaken Nightmare Year™ has taken everything from us. And like you, the only thing I care about anymore is eating my body weight in Halloween Oreos. If I could crush up Halloween Oreos into a fine powder and slick them across my gums in the bathroom of a dive bar, I would. If I could boil them down and inject them intravenously into my blood, I would. And I know you would, too.

I want to say to you, my fellow devotees, that this is not our fault. We’ve been bamboozled into utter dependency. Nabisco, Inc has us tightly in their grasp, sucking away all of our money year after year. Their scientists sit in their pastry laboratories wearing clean, white coats and say things like,

“Hmmm, how can we make this recipe even better so we can ruin Sara’s goddamn life?”

Yes, they have the name of every person they’ve chained to their habit-forming baked goods.

They have a list.

And when it’s not my name, it’s yours.

We are powerless to resist, despite our attempts. We always say just one more, but it isn’t one more. It’s one more after one more after one more. Suddenly, we’re going through withdrawal on Thanksgiving. We are doomed to repeat history every August through November until the end of days. 

And secretly, somewhere deep down in the dark crevices of our soul, where even extensive therapy can’t reach, we don’t want to stop.

Halloween Oreos are the superior Oreo, and they always will be. I know it, you know it, and that’s the hill we will all die on. At least we’ll all be together. Much too full, covered in black crumbs and wiping our orange-stained mouths as things start to go black.

Only then will we finally be free.

Happy Halloween.


Sara Costello is a Chicago actor, improviser, writer and tarot slinger. DM her about ghosts and/or gigs at @saracosty.

Categories: Fiction

Daily Drunk

Shawn Berman runs The Daily Drunk. You can follow him on Twitter @Sbb_writer.

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