Obesseus wasn’t planning on causing trouble.
He simply walked into Snackland Supermart to “browse,” which in Obesseus language meant:
hunt for free samples like a starving legendary beast.
He spotted them instantly.
A shining island of toothpicks, tiny cups, and little trays of joy.
THE SAMPLE TABLE.
Today’s offerings were glorious:
- Mini meatball bites
- Micro-sized mac and cheese
- Half-inch brownie squares
- And a mysterious “chef’s surprise” that smelled like destiny
Obesseus’s stomach growled a war cry.
He approached calmly… for exactly three seconds.
Then he unleashed Slam-Fu Technique #12: The Speedy Snack Cyclone.
His arms blurred.
His cheeks expanded.
Toothpicks cried out in terror.
In five seconds flat, Obesseus had “sampled” the entire table.
The Sample Lady blinked at the sudden emptiness.
“Sir… y-you’re only supposed to take one.”
Obesseus paused, cheeks still full.
He swallowed, slowly.
“One table?” he asked innocently.
“No. One sample.”
Obesseus gasped as if she’d spoken forbidden magic.
“One sample… per table?”
“No. One sample total.”
Obesseus staggered backward.
He clutched his heart like he’d been stabbed with a vegan salad fork.
“No… likey… rules…”
Before she could scold him further, Obesseus calmly picked up the entire empty sample tray and said:
“Obesseus help clean.”
But instead of taking it to the back…
He sat on the floor and licked it spotless.
That was the final straw.
The manager approached with the seriousness of a condemned broccoli.
“Sir… you are officially banned from the free sample program.”
Obesseus froze mid-lick.
“Banned?” he whispered, voice trembling.
“Yes.”
“You mean… Obesseus no more tiny foods?”
The manager nodded.
Obesseus fell to his knees dramatically, staring up at the ceiling lights as if summoning the spirits of all snack foods lost to history.
He shouted:
“NOOOOO! OBESSEUS ONLY WANT MORE SAMPLES TO SAMPLE SAMPLE!”
The entire store stared.
Gregory Green Onion popped out of the produce aisle just to witness his suffering.
The manager sighed.
“That’s it. Security!”
Two frail high-school interns walked over holding walkie-talkies.
Obesseus stood, patted their heads gently, and waddled toward the exit, shoulders slumped.
As he crossed the automatic doors, he whispered:
“Obesseus banned… but Obesseus NOT defeated.”
He turned around slowly.
“Next week… Obesseus bring disguise.”
And then he left.
The Sample Lady stared at the now-shiny-clean tray.
“…We’re gonna need more brownies.”
One week after his tragic banishment from the free sample table, Obesseus stood outside Snackland Supermart wearing the most suspicious disguise ever created.
He had on:
- A giant floppy hat
- Sunglasses the size of pancakes
- A trench coat six sizes too small
- A fake moustache made of torn churros
- And a name tag that read: “Definitely Not Obesseus.”
Obesseus inhaled deeply.
“Time for sneaky sneaky,” he whispered.
The automatic doors slid open.
He strutted inside like a master spy—who happened to smell like gravy and fear.
The Sample Lady narrowed her eyes.
She could sense something was off.
Obesseus walked past her, stiff as a breadstick.
“Hello, sir,” she said slowly.
“Have we… met?”
Obesseus deepened his voice to sound “normal.”
“No. Ob— I mean… Bessus. O. Bessus. First time shopper.”
The Sample Lady raised an eyebrow.
Obesseus pointed dramatically at the sample table.
“I try one. Just one. Very tiny. Very polite.”
She hesitated.
She studied him.
She squinted.
She sniffed the air.
“…You smell like mashed potatoes and poor decisions.”
Obesseus sweated gravy.
But she reluctantly nodded. “Fine. ONE sample.”
He approached the table like a predator stalking prey.
Today’s samples?
- Mini pizza squares
- Little cups of cheesy rice
- A single heroic jalapeño popper sitting on a pedestal
Obesseus whispered emotionally:
“Obesseus miss you…”
He reached for the pizza square.
His hand trembled.
His mouth watered.
His disguise crinkled.
Then…
The churro moustache fell off.
The hat tilted sideways.
The sunglasses slid down his nose.
The trench coat ripped down the back with a loud RRRIP as his Slam-Fu belly popped out.
The Sample Lady gasped.
“You!!”
Obesseus froze.
Caught.
He did the only logical thing:
He grabbed EVERY sample on the table and stuffed them all into his mouth at once.
The Sample Lady screamed.
The interns screamed.
Gregory Green Onion fell out of the cabbage bin and screamed too.
Obesseus fled.
Sprinting toward the exit, cheeks swollen like stuffed dumplings, he shouted through a mouthful of samples:
“OBESSEUS ONLY WANTED PEACE AND PIZZA!!”
Security chased him.
The interns flapped their walkie-talkies helplessly.
Gregory Green Onion grabbed a grape and threw it like a grenade.
Obesseus burst through the sliding doors like a heroic roly-poly missile and vanished down the sidewalk.
The Sample Lady collapsed to her knees.
“…We need stricter sample laws.”
Snackland Supermart had reached its breaking point.
After Obesseus’s dramatic disguised rampage, the manager held an emergency meeting in Aisle 9, between the canned soup and the emergency puddings.
The Sample Lady slammed her fist on the table.
“That giant menace ate through TWO WEEKS of samples!”
The manager nodded gravely.
“It’s time… to call them.”
Everyone gasped.
The Sample Police.
Five minutes later, a tiny golf cart with flashing orange lights screeched to a halt out front.
Out stepped Officer Pretzelton, the toughest, saltiest snack cop in all of Buffetland.
He cracked his knuckles.
“Where’s the perp?”
The Sample Lady pointed dramatically to a security photo on the wall—Obesseus wearing half a churro moustache, mid-chew.
Pretzelton’s eyes narrowed.
“This one’s got crumbs on his soul.”
Meanwhile…
Obesseus was outside, hiding behind a vending machine, eating a heroic jalapeño popper he’d saved from the raid.
He froze when he spotted the Sample Police entering the store.
“Oh no… Obesseus in BIG trouble.”
He tried to tiptoe away, but every step made the vending machine shake.
CLACK. CLACK. CLACK.
Sodas trembled in terror.
Officer Pretzelton burst out of the store.
“You there! LARGE MAN-SHAPED CREATURE! STOP!”
Obesseus screamed like a startled muffin and sprinted across the parking lot.
Pretzelton fired warning shots—which were just tiny sample cups bouncing harmlessly off Obesseus’s back.
“COME BACK AND PAY FOR THE PIZZA SQUARES!”
Obesseus grabbed a shopping cart, flipped it sideways, and used it as a shield.
“OBESSEUS NO PAY FOR TINY FOODS!”
Pretzelton dove behind a stack of pumpkins.
Shoppers panicked.
Gregory Green Onion hid inside a mailbox.
A dramatic standoff began.
Pretzelton raised his walkie-talkie.
“Requesting backup!”
Obesseus raised his jalapeño popper like a holy artifact.
“OBESSEUS REQUESTING… MERCY.”
Suddenly the sprinklers activated, creating misty fog across the lot.
Obesseus waddled away unseen like a chubby ninja.
When the fog cleared, only crumbs remained.
Pretzelton knelt, picked up a single half-chewed sample toothpick, and whispered:
“…He’s too powerful.”
Five minutes after the entire battle was over—exactly five minutes—Grant the Grapefruit rolled up on his licorice scooter wearing aviator shades.
He looked around.
Crushed sample cups.
A toppled vending machine.
A shopping cart shield on its side.
Security guards lying dramatically on the ground (they weren’t hurt—they just liked attention).
A single jalapeño popper wrapper blowing in the wind.
Grant blinked.
“…Did I miss something?”
Gregory Green Onion popped out of the mailbox, shaking.
“OBESSEUS WENT TO WAR WITH THE SAMPLE POLICE!”
Grant nodded.
“Yep. Sounds about right.”
The Sample Lady ran over, desperate.
“Grant! You’re friends with the big dumpling machine, right? Can you talk sense into him?”
Grant smirked.
“You don’t talk sense into Obesseus. You negotiate… with snacks.”
He revved his licorice scooter.
A dramatic chord played for no reason.
Grant rode off toward the horizon.
Gregory shouted after him:
“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!”
Grant didn’t look back.
“To find Obesseus…
…and bring him back the only way I know how.”
“How’s that?!”
“WITH BISCUITS.”
Gregory blinked.
“…Fair.”
Grant the Grapefruit found Obesseus exactly where he expected:
Behind Sporktastic Diner, sitting on an upside-down trash can, sadly eating a single leftover biscuit under a flickering light.
Obesseus sighed between bites.
“Obesseus… criminal now.”
Grant hopped off his licorice scooter and tossed him a fresh biscuit.
“No, no. You’re not a criminal.
You’re just… aggressively enthusiastic about free food.”
Obesseus sniffled.
“Sample Lady say Obesseus menace.”
“Well… you did disguise yourself with churros and eat the entire table.”
“OBESSEUS WAS HUNGRY!”
Thunder rumbled theatrically (even though the sky was clear).
Grant put a hand on his shoulder.
“Listen. The Sample Police won’t stop hunting you until you make this right.”
Obesseus gasped.
“Obesseus must fight them?”
“No! Apologize.”
Obesseus blinked like this was a foreign concept.
“You mean…
Obesseus say sorry?”
“Yes.”
Obesseus shivered at the terrifying idea.
Before he could argue, Officer Pretzelton, the Sample Lady, and two interns arrived—sirens blaring from their golf cart.
“This ends NOW!” Pretzelton shouted.
Obesseus stood tall.
He raised both hands.
Everyone braced for an attack.
Instead…
He bowed.
“Obesseus… sorry.
Obesseus take too many small foods.
Obesseus learn self-control.
(…maybe.)”
There was silence.
The Sample Lady’s lip trembled.
“That… was almost sweet.”
Pretzelton lowered his foam baton.
“So you admit guilt?”
Obesseus nodded solemnly.
“Obesseus guilty of being too yummy.”
“That’s not—” Pretzelton sighed. “Close enough.”
Grant stepped forward.
“Let the big guy make it up to you with community service!”
The interns perked up.
The Sample Lady smiled.
Pretzelton relented.
“…One chance.
But if he steals ONE sample—just one—we’re bringing the full might of the Sample Law down on him.”
Obesseus saluted.
“OBESSEUS WILL BEHAVE LIKE GENTLE ROLL.”
Obesseus’ apology worked… mostly.
But Snackland Supermart still insisted on a formal hearing in Snackland’s smallest courthouse: Judge Bagelstein’s Mini Muffin Court.
The ceiling was low.
The chairs were tiny.
Obesseus had to sit cross-legged on the floor like a giant toddler.
Judge Bagelstein banged his tiny gavel.
“Case #947: Snackland Supermart vs. Obesseus the Slam-Fu Fighter, on charges of excessive sampling, disguise deception, and misuse of churros.”
Obesseus raised a finger.
“Obesseus eat churros with honor.”
“Noted,” Judge Bagelstein said.
The Sample Lady testified first.
“He ate all my brownies! ALL OF THEM!”
Obesseus bowed deeply.
“Brownies were VERY delicious. Obesseus could not resist.”
The courtroom nodded.
That was fair.
Next came Officer Pretzelton.
“He used a shopping cart as a riot shield!”
Judge Bagelstein scribbled in his notes.
“That’s… surprisingly resourceful.”
Finally, Grant the Grapefruit rolled forward.
He cleared his throat.
“Your Honor. Obesseus may be… a gluttonous disaster. But he has a good heart. And massive respect for snacks everywhere.”
Obesseus clutched his chest emotionally.
“Obesseus heart is snack-shaped.”
The courtroom “awww’d.”
Judge Bagelstein tapped his gavel.
“This court finds the defendant… NOT GUILTY.”
Gasps filled the room.
“…Provided he completes 40 hours of Sample Table Community Service.”
Obesseus stood proudly.
“OBESSEUS ACCEPTS!”
“And,” the judge added, “you are banned from disguises involving churros for one year.”
Obesseus gasped.
“That… harsh but fair.”
The courtroom cheered.
Pretzelton shook Obesseus’ hand.
The Sample Lady handed him a hairnet.
Grant grinned.
And thus…
Obesseus’s time as The Sample Table Guardian began.
Instead of stealing samples, he served them—one tiny cup at a time.
He even announced his own rules:
- “One sample per person.”
- “Two if your belly is empty.”
- “Three if you say please.”
- “Four if your name is Grant the Grapefruit because he always late.”
And from that day on…
Snackland Supermart had the safest, friendliest, most chaotic sample table in the land.
Obesseus smiled proudly.
“Obesseus no banned anymore.
Obesseus… reborn.”