STORY TIME: I'm The Guy Who Invented Oregano-Flavored Oreos

 

Posted to Facebook 1/24/2017 7:42 PM

"Hey, everyone.  Important announcement.  My name is Mark Shatman.  I have been an employee of Nabisco Corp for many years and I'd like to publically apologize for creating Oregano-Flavored Oreos, the world's most hated Oreos.

I really messed up.  I thought people would like this flavor.  I was wrong.  Oregano is a great taste and I incorporate it into a lot of my salads and whatnot.  That's why I told everyone at work to make it an Oreo.  This was bad.

Oregano Oreos are also considered bad in a not woke context as well.  I didn't think about this but Oregano is Italian and when we put them in an American predominently-white/black cookies that wasn't woke and disrespectful to the Italian heritage.  

To our Italian fans, Mi dispiace.  That's Italian for 'I'm sorry' which I am.  

Also, I lost my job.  Oreos fired me for being so dumb.  I guess I deserve this.  Everyone online is criticizing me.  Buzzfeed, Anime Twitter, 4chan, Soundcloud rappers, The President.

I take full responsibility for my actions.  Oreo had nothing to do with this.  I made them do Oregano Oreos.  It was me, folks.

Ahhh, crap.  

Well, this is Mark Shatman.

Signing off,

God Bless you."

THE END

STORY TIME: I Left My Son At A Restaurant On Accident To Teach Him An Important Lesson

Last weekend, my son and I had a really nice time at our local Frisch's Big Boy restaurant.

We had such a good time that I accidentally left him there.

I know, I know, you probably all think I'm some sort of bad parent or something.  I'm not.  I actually left him there on accident for a reason.  Sons need to learn life lessons and my carelessness as a father taught him something important that day.

There, at Frisch's, my son learned that the world is a cruel, unforgiving place.  A place filled with fish fillets, grilled cheese and onion rings.

None of these foods are healthy.  If my son wants to be big and strong he needs to be trapped in a Frisch's Big Boy to learn how to navigate the temptations of unhealthy eating.

Also, my son didn't know what to do in this situation nor did he know where I was.  That's another important lesson - life doesn't come with a "guidebook."  No one's going to help you along.  You have to fend for yourself at Frisch's Big Boy.  My son got a crash test in this lesson at the early age of three.

Another thing the shift manager at Frisch's mentioned was that my son kept calling out "Mommy."  My son was apparently traumatized by this ordeal.  He decided to yell for his mother to come help him.  She didn't come, obviously.  This is another important lesson my three-year-old learned.  Whining like a snowflake doesn't get you anything.  No one is going to wipe up your liberal tears at Frisch's Big Boy, you stupid baby.

Yes, I did leave my son at Frisch's, but it's not for the reason you think.  I left him there on accident.  However, through my utter recklessness, I taught him the most important lesson of all...don't let me leave you at a Frisch's, idiot.

THE END

STORY TIME: I Got Lost In The Store For 40 Frickin Years

I can't believe I made it this far.  40 years ago, I lost my mom in the store.  I think she left me here.  Either that or she's still somewhere in the store looking for me. I doubt that. 

I can't believe I even lasted this long.  It was hard but I was able to survive on the nourishment of a fully stocked 24-hour grocery store.

Everyone thinks I work here.  Secretly, I've been trapped in here for years.  It's really kinda messed up.  Have you seen Jumanji?

It's like Jumanji, but at a store.  Also, I can leave whenever I want.  I forgot to tell you about that part.  I guess it's not like Jumanji.

I know where the door is.  I am allowed to leave.  I think I have Stockholm Syndrome with the store.  That's probably it.  I should really see a psychiatrist or somebody.  Sometimes the pharmacy lets me have some of the leftovers.

Did I mention I'm a rat.  Yeah, this is a Ratatouille thing as well.  Have you seen Ratatouille?  I've actually never seen it.  I was supposed to go and see it but I went with a friend to see Evan Almighty instead.  I kind of wish I would have seen Ratatouille now.  Hindsight is always 20/20.

There's not much left to say.  I guess I'll just keep being me: A-Forty-Year-Old-Talking-Rat-Who-Lives-At-The-Store-Narrator-Voice.

Ok,
love you.

THE END

STORY TIME: My Community Disowned Me For Falling In Love With My Tortoise

Falling in love with a tortoise is a sin, apparently.

I don't see anything wrong with it, personally.  However, I may be biased, seeing as I'm in love with my tortoise.

My community is mean.

What's wrong with a little tortoise love?  You look at a picture of a tortoise and try not to fall in love with it.  I dare you.

I'm waiting.  See, it's impossible.

My community should have rallied around me and my tortoise.  Instead, they've disowned me.

This is messed up.  I'm moving to a more tortoise-friendly neighborhood.

Did I mention I'm a turtle?

THE END

STORY TIME: I'm Writing An eBook About The History of Cheese Nips

Kindle Singles are so hot right now.  Which is why I've decided to write an eBook on the history of Cheese Nips.  Here's the pitch.  Ready?

Basic Outline

Cheese-Nips: The Beginning

Cheese Nips (originally stylized as "Cheese-Nips") were introduced in 1955 and were positioned in the 1980s as a competiotor to Sunshine Cheez-It's.

By 1999, the box was given a more contemporary look, with the slogan "100% Real Cheese Taste Explosion".

Since the Kraft/Philip Morris merger of Nabisco in 2000, Kraft Cheese Nips and all other Nabisco cheese-related products are made with Kraft Cheese.

Crackers shaped as characters from the Nickelodeon show CatDog were produced to further market the Cheese-Nips brand.

Gary Sinise has been the official Cheese Nips Brand Ambassador since the 2008 election.

My relationship with Cheese Nips

I like eating them.

Why I'm writing this book

I like Cheese-Nips and Kindle Singles are so hot right now.

What's that?  How many pages is the book?  No, this is it.  This is the whole book.

THE END

STORY TIME: I Broke The Rules

"I can't believe I've done this.  You have to forgive me.  I am so ashamed of myself.  I could say I didn't know, but that would be a lie.  I did know.  I knew full well.  I saw the sign.  Ok, I'm ready to come clean....I walked on the grass.  I did.  I walked on the grass!  I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry.  I ignored the sign.  I ignored the warning.  'Keep off of Grass' will be the phrase running through my head for all eternity.  I just couldn't stay away.  It was pure temptation.  I just got so caught up in the thrill of it all.  The grass, my feet, the sign etc.  It made so much sense, at least at the time.  You must forgive me."  

The cop was quiet for a while.

"So did you commit the murder or not?"  She replied.

"I mean, yeah, I did that too."

"Ok, great.  Thanks.  Case closed."

THE END

STORY TIME: My Weed Eater Thinks I'm A Weed

I've never been this scared.

A picture of me

My weed eater thinks I'm a weed.  Do I look like a weed to you?  I'm a Pokemon, for goodness sakes.  I'm not a weed.  I just want to weed-eat my yard in peace but my weed eater thinks I'm a weed.

Do you realize how messed up this is?

It's messed up!  I'm not a weed.  Look at me.  I have roots, I have leaves (weed qualities for sure) but I'm not a weed!  I swear.

My weed eater is a jerk.  He only eats weeds (and tries to eat me).  Can't he go eat some other food???  Like hardtack or perhaps Teddy Grahams.  What's this guys problem?

I'm going inside.  Hopefully, this weed eater will finally come around.

THE END

STORY TIME: Tommy Lasorda Keeps Showing Up At The Batting Cages To Taunt Me

I've been a Dodgers fan all my life.  I grew up watching those guys.  They are my team, through and through.  Who could forget seeing the Dodger pitching tame the Oakland A's sluggers in the 1988 World Series?  As a kid, I idolized Kirk Gibson for his iconic walk-off homer in Game 1.

So naturally, I was pretty taken aback when famous manager Tommy Lasorda showed up to my local batting cages.

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I initially started going to the cages to blow off some steam.  I love getting in a few swings in after work.  My friend Sanjaya sometimes goes with me.  We each have a couple brewskis and take turns hittin' the hardball.

One night after Sanjaya went home, I stayed a bit later to get some more swings in.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see an old man leaning against the outside of the cage.  I didn't think it was Tommy at first.  I thought it was just some old guy who liked watching batters.  Then I realized it was Lasorda.

I was in shock.  Obviously, I wanted to show him what I could do.  I hit every pitch with the voracity of Kirk Gibson.  After the session, Tommy took me aside.

"Listen son, you have potential.  I could see you getting some attention from scouts.  I'll set a meeting up with the Dayton Dragons.  How does moving to Dayton sound?"

"Uh, come again?"

"Baseball, son!  Baseball.  I want you in the pros kid."

"I'll do anything if it means playing ball again!"  I replied.  "Do you really mean that?"

"No, asshole.  I'm just messing with you."  Tommy Lasorda laughed and laughed.  I nervously laughed with him.  Sure enough the next day, Tommy Lasorda was there.

Every time Sanjaya or I took the plate.  Tommy was there.  I couldn't explain it.  Mostly he would watch but he would also give us pointers every now and again.

He'd say things like, "Good eye", and "Keep that elbow high!  High, that's better!"

Then things turned belligerent.  One day Tommy showed up drunk.  "You call that a swing you pieces of human garbage?"  Tommy hurled insults at Sanjaya and I.

"We'll get better, Tommy.  I promise."  I replied.  Over the next several months Tommy Lasorda taunted me.   Every time Sanjaya and I were at the cages, Tommy just showed up, mad as hell.

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"You're terrible!" Tommy yelled one day, "I've seen better batting from the Mets!"

"Sir, we're just doing our best."  I explained.  "We're not professional ballplayers."

"No shit."  Tommy said, "You two are the lousiest batters I have ever seen in my whole life.  You expect me to watch this crap?"

"Tony, sir," Sanjaya finally spoke up, "with all due respect, no.  We don't expect you to watch us," he said.

Tommy replied, "Don't you want advice from one of the league's best managers?"

"No, Tony!" Sanjaya yelled, "I don't like you.  I think your annoying and I don't like the Dodgers!  I just want to blow some steam off after work, Tony!  I'm tired, man.  I hate my job and I'm not about to take crap from Tony Lasorda!"

"Tommy." I corrected.

"Tommy, Tommy Lasorda, right.  Who cares."  Sanjaya stormed off.

"Do you boys really feel that way?"  Tommy said.

"No, Tommy.  He didn't mean that.  Sanjaya...he'll come around on the Dodgers, I promise."  Tommy had tears in his eyes.

"Can I tell you something son?"

"Sure, Tommy." I replied.

"You boys have given me some of the best memories of my life."

"Really?"  I replied, "What about the World Series?"

"Do you think I care about that?  Do you think I gave a rat's about Kirk Gibson?"

"Uh, yeah.  It seemed like it."

"Well I didn't.  I didn't want to be manager of the Dodgers.  I walked in the clubhouse by accident in the 50s and they assumed I was the manager.  I could have been manager of a Pizza Hut for all I cared."

"Really?  I can't believe this.  Tommy Lasorda hates the Dodgers?"

"You betcha, son.  Can't stand the pros."

"Wow."

"You know what I really care about?  I care about helping a few young guns with their swing.  I like watching guys blow off some steam at the cages, ok?  If that's so wrong then I don't want to be right."

Then Tommy Lasorda died in my arms.  I took two baseballs and put them over his eyes.  Sanjaya ended up winning American Idol because of this.  Weird couple of months for me.

THE END

STORY TIME: I Think I Like Limes Now, Mom

"I think I like limes now, Mom."

"Wow, honey.  That's great."

"I used to hate limes.  Remember that, Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie.  I do remember that."

"Yeah, I used to really not like them.  I'm different now."

"Yes sweetie, you are different.  You're all grown up."

"Mom, would you buy me limes if I asked?"

"Yes, honey.  I'll practically get you anything in the store."

"What about a katana, Mom?  Would you buy me a blade."

"No sweetie.  They don't sell katanas here."

"What about a dinosaur?  Would you buy me a T-Rex?"

"No sweetie.  They don't sell dinosaurs.  Dinosaurs are extinct."

"Dinosaurs are extinct?  What do you mean?"

"Sweetie, there are no dinosaurs left.  All of them are dead."

"Oh."

"Mom, will humans go extinct?"

"Yes.  One day there will be no more humans.  If science is to be believed, in the future, the earth will be vaporized by a dead sun."

"Oh."

"We just have to accept that sweetie."

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yes."

"I don't really like limes now.  I was lying earlier."

"Okay.  That's fine."

THE END

STORY TIME: I Demand A Refund

"This is utterly unacceptable.  Where's your manager?"  The woman said.

"Ma'am, I am the manager," replied Ronnie.

"Well, you should be completely ashamed of yourself.  What's your name?"

"I'm Ronnie.  I work here."

"Well my good Ronald.  This isn't the last you will be hearing from me.  No sir, I demand a refund."

"Before we go and start calling each other by our full names, lets try to make things right.  What exactly happened ma'am?"

"I found a nail in my cheeseburger."

"A what?"

"A nail!  Can you believe that?"

"I'm sorry ma'am.  Fingernails shouldn't be in cheeseburgers.  I take full responsibility."

"No Ronnie, not a fingernail.  A metal nail.  I bit into my cheeseburger and almost died."

"Wow, what a story.  I'm sorry that happened to you.  Do you happen by chance to have the nail with you?"

"Well no, I threw it away actually."

"Ok, well do you have the cheeseburger?"

"No, I do not."

"When exactly did this take place?"

"A few weeks ago."

"And do you have the receipt?"

"No."

"Ma'am, I think we're done here."

"Can I at least have a fry?"

"No, you may not have a fry."

THE END

STORY TIME: A Star Is Bourne

One side of a phone conversation with a star:

Hey so, I'm a star.

this is me

I'm not trying to be pretentious or anything, but I formed from a clump of gas that got so hot it reached 10 million degrees Celsius.  So, I guess you could say, I'm pretty hot lol.  Again, not trying to brag.

A few planets orbit me.  I'm their central star.  They seem to like me I guess.  It's not a big deal or anything.  Am I friends with the planets?  I guess.  They kind of need me.

No, I don't need them.

What does a star like me do for fun?

I watch movies mostly.

I like all kinds of movies.  Shawshank Redemption, Clueless.  Oh, you know what movie I really like?  That Bourne Identity movie.  Oh, it's so good.

There's a book?

You're telling me that the Bourne Identity is based off of a book?

Sigh.  I wish I could read.  Whenever anyone sends me books they always burn up in the mail.

How do I watch movies?

I spy on planets with drive-ins.

Hey, maybe you could teach me how to read?

Yeah, like English or French or something?

Sounds great, I'll see you on Tuesday.  Ok.  You take care now.  Bye, bye.

THE END

STORY TIME: Van Halen Shattered My Marriage

Ok, so I love Van Halen and my wife really doesn't like them.

This is how my story starts:

I was listening to Van Halen in the garage one day, and my wife just bursts in.

My wife started saying stuff like: "Hey, please turn this music down," and "I've had a really hard day," and "this music is disrupting my nap."

You know, complete B.S.-type stuff my wife is always saying.

Then I was all like, "Well, why do you have to ruin everything, Karen!  You know I love hanging out in the garage!  You know I love Van Halen, Karen!"

Then I smashed a plate.

My wife left me because of this.  I am a very sad and lonely man now.  I live alone in a big house on the side of a hill.  It overlooks a small town in Iowa.  It is here where I will live out the rest of my days, forever contemplating my foolish actions.

This is all because of the band Van Halen.  Van Halen shattered my marriage.

THE END

STORY TIME: The Best Year of My Life

Ok, I've decided.

This is going to be the best year ever.

I'm going to get so much done.  I'm going to eat healthier.  I'm going to get in better shape.  I'm going to dye my hair maybe.  I'm going to watch some classic movies, some foreign films as well.  I'm going to read every book on my bookshelf, even the dictionary.

Especially the dictionary.

I'm finally going to come out of my shell.  I'm going to meet new people.  I'm going to travel.  I've thought about buying a kayak.  Oh, I should buy a birdhouse.  Also, I need a new jacket.  I'm getting a jacket this year.  I've always wanted to start a podcast.  I'm going to start a podcast.  That's it.  I'm starting a podcast.  It's settled.

I'm going to get a record player too.  Yeah, and some vinyl.  I'm going to be a cool record collector this year.  Also, I'm going to buy candles.  I'm a person who has candles now.

You know what?  I'm going to unplug this year.  Yep, that's it.  I'm going to stop watching Netflix.  Also, I'm going to stop drinking soda.  I'm going to learn french as well.  I think I could probably learn french.

Oui!  Oui!

See, I'm already on the right track.  Now all I have to do is learn the rest of the french language.  Seems easy enough.

Sigh.

Who am I kidding?

I'm not going to do any of this.  I'm never going to have a podcast or listen to vinyl records or even get vinyl siding.

I'm probably never going to learn french either.

This year's gonna be so lame.

I'm bored.

Wish I had something to do around here.

THE END