There are two kinds of people in the world; those who twist their Oreos open before eating them, and those who don’t. Naturally, I fall into the third group, sometimes I twist them open (and I was always more of a Hydrox fan, but it’s like grieving the loss of Beta videotapes), and sometimes I don’t.
In fact, I invented double-Stuff cookies. See, once I got good at it, I could open up a cookie so that all of the Stuff stayed on one side, known to specialists in the field as the primary semicookie. And then I’d put together the two primaries, thereby doubling the creme/crunch ratio. When Oreo came out with official double-Stuff cookies, I decided not to press my position as inventor, preferring instead to share my discovery as a force for good in the world.
Official double-Stuff Oreos also have an advantage over my hand-built prototypes. My originals could not themselves be opened up to continue the process in its proper geometric expansion. The adherence of the Stuff to its primary semicookie substrate could not be overcome by the creme-to-creme interface I had assembled. Official double-Stuff Oreos can be separated and recombined into quadruple-Stuff Oreos. Until a recent breakthrough in handling Stuff, this was the theoretical limit.
I am a programmer for a start-up computer company, and like many such firms, my bosses provide snacks. One of the current snacks is a big ol’ carton of mini Oreos. Each one is about the diameter of a nickel (US), and slightly thinner than a regular Oreo (the standard for which is established by the platinum-iridium Oreo in the vaults of the International Bureau of Weights and Measures near Paris). I twisted one apart, as I occasionally do, and was presented with a pleasant surprise. The separation into primary and secondary semicookies was unusually clean. Recognizing the spark of inspiration that characterizes all great leaps of science, I tried an experiment. Utilizing a plastic knife from the utensil drawer, I set about removing the Stuff from the primary substrate. It came away cleanly. I now had a mini-unit of pure Stuff, and the last barrier of Stuff manipulation fell away.
I immediately put my discovery into practice. Selecting fourteen mini Oreos from the carton, I attempted to open all of them. Twelve separated cleanly into primary and secondary. I set aside the two which appeared least likely to offer a pristine Stuff extraction, but was successful in separating the other ten into independent, free-floating Stuffs. From these simple components, I was able to assemble the world’s first mini dodecatuple-Stuff Oreo. The cookie, dubbed DSO-1, was twice as tall as it was wide. If you want to dunk one of these in milk, you have to do it lengthwise.
There was only one thing left to do to certify the cookie a success, it would have to be tested on a human subject. Being a firm believer in scientific ethics, I could not allow a volunteer to run a risk I was not prepared to accept myself. Eating DSO-1 was a sugar rush like you have never felt in your life. The hard cookie substrates served only as a transport mechanism and played little role in the final culinary experience as the creme influence predominated. It predominated a lot. I spent the next ninety seconds running my tongue along the roof of my mouth like a squeegee and saying “Hello, Wilbur.” This was followed by a lingering sweet aftertaste, so much so that I was tempted to stick a spray can of whipped cream in my mouth to temper it slightly.
Of course, before I publish the findings of today’s breakthrough, they will need to be confirmed by independent researchers. Any takers?
They are still loaded with saturated fat, however. (1.5 grams for 3 cookies, according to