You’re in the kitchen fishing through the various cupboards and cabinets, looking for where your spouse hid the crisp new bag of Oreos you’d deftly caught sight of when she got back from the grocery store. You’re sure you saw it—there’s no mistaking that shiny blue packaging. And it wasn’t Hydrox either. We’re talking Oreos—there is a major textural difference and everybody with a brain knows it; the disparity is akin to Coca Cola versus Shasta Cola. Anyway, she’s upstairs taking a shower now, out of the picture. It’s go time. You snoop around the kitchen like a CSI agent looking for the big, game changing glob of brain matter (w/ cream filling).
You want the mystery Oreos bad. You fish your arm all the way into the dark recesses of the cabinet with the chipped coffee mugs. Your hand spiders rudely about the maze of porcelain and glass. What you find is a dusty packet of pumpkin seeds, about a thousand twisty-ties, a mini-burlap sack of cinnamon, but no Oreos. They’re here somewhere, sure, but where?
Then, wallah, you find them! They’d been expertly concealed in an empty box of Cheerios. Perfect hiding spot! Clever girl! You yank those babies out and make this weird “Black Hole Sun” kinda stretchy face of near-sexual ecstasy. When they find you an hour later, you’re on the kitchen floor, squirming about in pain, deep in the throes of a nasty, nasty sugar crash. The blue bag of Oreos is no more—it looks like its been through a shredder. You’ve been a bad boy. As your spouse stands above you in unmitigated disgust, you reach up to her with a trembling hand and say, “Kill meeeeee.” You clutch at your stomach as if a baby alien is about to piston through the skin.
As your spouse nurses you back to health over the next few weeks, your shame is offset by the glory of having beaten her! Clearly, there’s no place she can hide a big bag of Oreos where you won’t eventually sniff it out. You’re like a decorated hero cop and his bloodhound K-9 partner all spliced into a single, cookie-sniffin’ Were-Dog. And whenever you’re hungry it’s a full moon!
Except here’s the thing: you’ve been totally duped, Dummy! Your spouse has outsmarted you so completely, so absolutely, that you haven’t the first clue that you’ve been beaten. You’re like a mere hamster compared to her intelligent, Independence Day octopus alien.
Huh? What manner of sorcery is this? Well, it’s pretty simple, really. Your spouse knows the secret to hiding a bag of Oreos, and she’s used this secret to successfully pull the wool over your eyes time and again.
If you want to successfully hide a bag of Oreos, here’s what you do.
- First, you don’t just buy one bag of Oreos. That won’t work. You need to buy at least two identical bags of Oreos.
- When you return from the grocery store and your significant other is circling the kitchen like a shortfin mako shark while you unpack your grocery bags, make sure to flash him just a hint of Oreo bag. Do it on purpose, but don’t look like you’re doing it on purpose. And for God’s sake, do not let him know that there’s really two bags of Oreos. You do that, and it’s curtains.
- Once your significant other retreats to the computer room, clearly thinking his subtle reconnaissance has yielded promising results, you need to act fast. Take the first bag of Oreos and hide it in the best freakin spot you can think of. It has to be a new spot that you’d never used before, or else he might get suspicious. Frankly, it has to be a fairly brilliant hiding place that you’d never before even considered in all your years living in that house. As an example, let’s use the hiding spot mentioned earlier: an emptied king-size box of Cheerios. You slide the first bag of Oreos in the box. Then you put the box in the pantry behind the box of Kix.
- Next, you take the second—the real—bag of Oreos and you stand on your kitchen table and you duct tape the bag to the ceiling. It’s that easy, folks. What’s gonna happen is, your significant other will be so impressed with himself for finding that first, well-hidden bag of Oreos, he’ll never suspect for a moment that there was a second bag of Oreos in an even better hiding spot directly above his head. Yes, one bag of Oreos must sacrifice itself so that the other might live, but at the end of the day, you will have successfully hidden a bag of Oreos. The only sad thing is that, if you do your job well enough, nobody will ever know you’ve done your job at all. You’ll be like a Hollywood film editor.
But hey, you’ll know, and that’s all that matters.
What about you, readers? What’s the craziest place you’ve ever hidden a bag of cookies?
If you’ve still got a sweet tooth, check out my post about Hostess Orange Cupcakes and the Art of Selfish Sharing.