Sometimes you find out that some of the sweetest and simplest of things can be the most deadly. My Sister is just such a thing. One wouldn't think so by looking at her, such a sweet smile, such a warm friendly laugh, but sooner or later there it is, the calculating stab at the most vulnerable spot, the killing blow. Then she steps back and laughs and stabs again and again. You wouldn't think her to be this cold blooded assassin type, but give her the smallest opening, and schwick, there goes the blade, straight to the solar plexis! Her weapon wasn't the blade, of course, that is just a metaphor for her real assault method, which was so elegantly simple that no one could see it coming. The Oreo Cookie.

Such cleverness, such guile, all cloaked in the loving sisterly gesture. She said she had some "stuff" downstairs in her drawer that were going to have to be thrown out if I didn't help her eat it. Just a few cookies, chips, maybe, a piece of candy or two. This, of course, after having just confided to her about a recent craving for Oreo cookies that had sprung up in my head, and that I didn't know what to do about it. She just happened to have a few, couldn't I help her eat them. So she wouldn't have to throw them away, you see. So logical, so calculating, the steel trap had just snicked shut around me, and I didn't even know it.

Once a craving gets a hold of you, as all you heroin addicts well know, it is just nigh unto impossible to get rid of it, so I caved, call me a wus, but I went down and I ate two, the first hour. Then another trip downstairs to get another two, then I wanted the rest, but forced myself to stop. Silly me, I was doomed and didn't even know it. They called to me, sweet siren song of dark chocolate wavers filled with that wonderful greasy sugary white filling. "Come eat me", they sang, "please come back and eat me!" I struggled so valiantly with the call, "No, I have had enough, I don't need anymore", I said to myself sternly. You know the saying that bird (type of vulture, I am sure) woman, Nancy Reagan, said, "Just say No!" I hate her, as I am sure, do all addicts. No isn't in your vocabulary, no isn't even an option, You hear it whispered inside your brain, but it never can beat out the cacophony of screams all shouting one thing, in my case, "EAT MORE OREOS! NEED MORE OREOS, NOW! GET THEM OR DIE!"

You get the picture, not a pretty one either. So, you might ask, did it stop there? Did she content herself to just that small attack? Oh, no, because, you see, by that time, the craving was set in stone, blood screaming, head hurting, stomach in a knot (that didn't have to do with the craving, just the after effects of eating those horrible things, which I will get to later, have no fear of that!) Scheming and planning on how to obtain the needed substance without anyone knowing it. So I cleverly went down and bought a bag of mini ones, thinking that because they were small, it wouldn't be so bad. Well that bag lasted all of a day, by the next day, I was again trying to find a way of getting back to the store so I could smoothly just plop those little things into my basket yet one more time. One more time, what a joke! Thus started a month long descent into the hell of a lactose intolerant, diabetic overdose! I found myself sneaking cookies through the checkout lane so my loving partner wouldn't notice, which of course, she did, but tried very hard not to do the parental thing of saying, "What, are you nuts!! Put those back!"Well, once or twice she tried, but an addict deep into their addiction doesn't listen to any voice of reason, or any voice at all, other than the one in their head."cookies, cookies, more oreo cookies, now or you die!"That should really be gigantic size type, that is what it felt like.

And what was my sister doing during this month long crisis, you ask? Why laughing her fool head off and helping me. Her help was disguised in the form of a little trip to Wall-Mart, which had just opened a brand new supersized one just a few miles away. We had to go, of course. While there, perusing the isle in search of Easter stuff and whatnots, what does this sinful, sinister and any other 'S' word I could come up with, do? Comes tripping down the aisle with an arm load of ...... wait for it ......... You guessed it, Oreo Cookies. The large package, double stuffed, some Easter ones, with yellow filling, some mini's, and some chocolate filled ones. You name the type that they make and she had them, and I, brave and disciplined person that I am, managed to keep my head and wits about me and put the yellow filled ones back, I didn't need those, you know. How pathetic!

I ate them all, of course, made myself really sick. Ate more, then even more. The final straw was the entire package I consumed in Denver, well, minus about eight or so, which are still in the package, I might add. I got sooooo sick that I thought I was going to have to go to the hospital emergency room, It was almost time for Ipicac syrup! While relaying this information, what did my so sympathetic sister do? What she always does. Sat there and laughed her ass off!