There is nothing thin about Thin Mints. Nothing! I am going to sue someone. But Who? Maybe the clown that ordered a case, yes an entire case of Thin Mints! She should definitely be held responsible. Or maybe that cute little Brownie that lives upstairs and peddled them in the first place. She is like a dealer. She arrives innocent at the door with her sweet smile and piles of cheerfully boxed cookies. And then asks for a check or cash. Shaking I run for my wallet.
Opening up a sleeve only leads to that sleeves entire consumption in a solo attack of the cellophane wrapper. Then another sleeve starts hollering my name. Screaming, "Eat me. Eat me.", over and over until I can't stand it any more. I give in like a lover weak in the knees. Lusting after another Thin Mint. A little chocolate drool forms in the corner of my mouth. I am a pathetic addict.
IMPORTANT message to Otter: Back Away from the Thin Mints. Put down that sleeve. Good, now back up nice and slow. Yes, that's it. Slow. Good. Don't even think about grabbing that sleeve and stuffing it in your mouth. Take it easy now. Want a drink of water? No more Thin Mints. Good. Just step away.