OREO MARLEY ZOMBIE

I'm not normal.  This I know.  It is also not news to those who know me well.  I am not normal, and I am apparently a very sick and twisted person.

Let me present the following evidence for your perusal.

A woman at work, a lovely woman who also happened to be my Secret Santa person, is always leaving treats and such in our teacher lunchroom.  She is a pretty decent baker.  Imagine all of our surprise when she delivers to us Oreo truffles. She makes them with regular Oreo cookies and with mint Oreo cookies, and then the treats are dipped in chocolate and presented to us much like offerings to the gods.

Everyone at work takes the Oreo truffles and eats them.  They're like bonbons, and no one seems to notice anything peculiar.  No one, of course, except me.  Why me?  Because I am not normal.

I look at the truffles and notice that some of them have faces.  Yes, faces.  The damn things are looking at me.  One in particular looks remarkably like Munch's Scream.  Having just read Dickens and watched the 1984 movie version of A Christmas Carol with the entire seventh grade, I pick up one of the Oreo truffles and announce to my lunchroom cohorts:

"Look!  It's Marley!"  (Marley, the ghost who unties the wrap around his head so his cadaver mouth can fall open.)

Never having seen The Walking Dead on television but knowing full-well what it's about and what I must do next, I suspect you all know where I'm going with this, and you're damn straight I run to get my cell phone to document the entire thing because ... because ... well, because I'm not normal.

So here it is, folks, my photo-documentary of how I turn an innocent Oreo truffle into dead Jacob Marley then transform him into the zombie apocalypse. 

You're welcome!

P.S.  Oreo Marley Zombie is delicious!