- Jan 9, 2001
- 7,572
- 2
- 76
The oreo sits on the table before me, begging to be inserted into my mouth, dissolved and crushed into a brown mush, then thrust down my esophagus, where it would then be pushed through my intestines and further digested by the churning acids in my stomach. I am rather surprised at the detailed and patternistic indentations on the crumbly surface of the cookie. Hundreds of equidistant ridges line its circumference. Slightly curved segments lie just within them. Inside those, squares are split into four-triangle patterns, giving it a look similar to that of the Iron Cross. There are five dots surrounding each of these triangles. The word ?OREO? is place in skinny capital letters within an oval, with an antennae-like pattern emerging from its peak.
As I hold the cookie, its surface feels rough and powdery, and chocolate dust blankets my fingertips. The ridges on its outer edge feel rumbly as my finger strokes it. It is very brittle.
The chocolate scent fills my nostrils as I hold it near my face, though it is not overpowering. It is a pale, faint scent, reminiscent of pudding or cake.
Finally I crunch down on the cookie, feeling it break and diminish under the weight of my teeth. The powdery texture I felt on my fingertips now flourishes within my mouth and envelopes my tongue. The sound of the crunch fills my entire membrane, like heavy feet plodding through fresh, crisp snow. The initial rough sensation gives way to the cool, thick, dense cream center. The surface is now much softer and easier to chew, tow which my jaw responds with more rapid rising and clamping. As I swallow, the familiar after-taste of chocolate returns to my mouth.
As I hold the cookie, its surface feels rough and powdery, and chocolate dust blankets my fingertips. The ridges on its outer edge feel rumbly as my finger strokes it. It is very brittle.
The chocolate scent fills my nostrils as I hold it near my face, though it is not overpowering. It is a pale, faint scent, reminiscent of pudding or cake.
Finally I crunch down on the cookie, feeling it break and diminish under the weight of my teeth. The powdery texture I felt on my fingertips now flourishes within my mouth and envelopes my tongue. The sound of the crunch fills my entire membrane, like heavy feet plodding through fresh, crisp snow. The initial rough sensation gives way to the cool, thick, dense cream center. The surface is now much softer and easier to chew, tow which my jaw responds with more rapid rising and clamping. As I swallow, the familiar after-taste of chocolate returns to my mouth.
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