D.T. Tucker | Updates

Blood of a St. Claire Wins the Literary Titan Gold Book Award

D.T. Tucker — Fri, 4 Sep 2026 00:00:00 +0000

I’m thrilled to announce that Blood of a St. Claire has received the 2026 Literary Titan Gold Book Award following its five-star review.

Literary Titan praised the novel’s blend of psychological suspense, supernatural horror, family trauma, and dark humor. The accompanying interview—appropriately titled “He Wants to Possess Them”—explores the creation of Henry St. Claire and the twisted family legacy at the center of the story.

The book’s video advertisement also earned 3,738 views, substantially exceeding its original 2,500-view campaign goal.

Apparently, reviewing Henry wasn’t enough. He had to possess the headline, win the gold, and make himself part of the Literary Titan family.

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Obesseus Book 5

D.T. Tucker — Sat, 8 Aug 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Without any title spoilers or going into details, I will confirm that Obesseus book 5 coming in quarter 4.

Keep all eyes on the website and you just might catch it.

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Obesseus Vs the Snackland Press Job Fair

D.T. Tucker — Wed, 22 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Grant the Grapefruit was walking through downtown Snackland when he noticed a giant balloon shaped like Allen Apple.

Below it hung an enormous banner.

SNACKLAND PRESS JOB FAIR!

“WHERE OVERTIME IS A LIFESTYLE!”

Grant the Grapefruit sighed.

“…That can’t be legal.”

Inside the convention center, smiling employees stood in matching polo shirts.

Some looked happy.

Most looked… required to look happy.

Allen Apple adjusted his tie.

“Remember everyone. If anyone asks whether you enjoy working here…”

Jeff Jelly whispered,

“…blink twice and say yes.”

At that exact moment, Obesseus wandered inside carrying a bucket of popcorn.

“Oooo… free snacks!”

Allen Apple’s eyes lit up.

“The perfect employee!”

Jeff Jelly grinned.

“He already looks excited!”

Before Obesseus knew what was happening, Allen Apple placed a Snackland Press polo on him.

“Congratulations!”

“You’ve been promoted to Employee Happiness Demonstrator.”

Obesseus looked down.

“Do me get snacks?”

Allen Apple smiled nervously.

“Eventually.”

Jeff Jelly added,

“After a brief twelve-week training period.”

Obesseus blinked.

“Twelve… weeks?”

“Orientation.”

“Mandatory meetings.”

“Optional mandatory meetings.”

“Mandatory optional meetings.”

Grant the Grapefruit burst through the doors.

“OBESSEUS! DON’T SIGN ANYTHING!”

Allen Apple quickly stepped between them.

“Welcome to our family-oriented workplace.”

Grant the Grapefruit looked around.

“Why does everyone have overtime signs?”

Every employee slowly raised identical yellow signs.

WE LOVE OVERTIME

One tiny broccoli quietly whispered,

“I miss my children…”

Jeff Jelly coughed loudly.

“I SAID WE LOVE OVERTIME!”

The broccoli immediately smiled.

“I LOVE OVERTIME!”

Grant the Grapefruit leaned toward Obesseus.

“This place is weird.”

Obesseus nodded.

“Him no get snacks yet.”

Allen Apple clapped his hands.

“Time for our employee demonstration!”

A crowd of job seekers gathered.

Allen Apple pointed at Obesseus.

“Tell everyone how happy you are to work here.”

Obesseus smiled.

“Me work here five minutes.”

Allen Apple whispered,

“Close enough.”

Obesseus scratched his head.

“Me hungry.”

Allen Apple laughed nervously.

“And what motivates you?”

“…Food.”

“What keeps morale high?”

“…Food.”

“What inspires teamwork?”

“…More food.”

Allen Apple’s smile slowly disappeared.

Jeff Jelly jumped in.

“Now tell everyone about the free pizza parties!”

Obesseus’s eyes grew wide.

“PIZZA?!”

Jeff Jelly proudly pointed toward a silver serving tray.

The lid was lifted dramatically.

Inside sat…

…one single slice of cold cheese pizza.

It had been cut into sixteen pieces.

A tiny sign read:

PLEASE SHARE RESPONSIBLY

Obesseus stared.

Silence filled the room.

Grant the Grapefruit quietly backed toward the exit.

Obesseus looked at Allen Apple.

Then Jeff Jelly.

Then the microscopic pizza slice.

His lip quivered.

“No…”

The floor began shaking.

Allen Apple looked worried.

“Why is the floor shaking?”

Grant the Grapefruit sighed.

“Because you made him sad.”

Obesseus let out the loudest belly rumble in Snackland history.

GRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOMMMMMMMBLE!

The force launched every overtime sign into the ceiling.

Jeff Jelly’s clipboard flew out the window.

Allen Apple’s motivational banner wrapped around his head.

Employees cheered.

Someone yelled,

“THE OVERTIME SIGNS ARE GONE!”

Another shouted,

“I CAN SEE MY FAMILY!”

Within seconds, the entire job fair emptied.

The employees marched outside…

…and straight to King Billy Blueberry’s annual Food Festival.

Obesseus happily followed.

“Now THIS job fair.”

Grant the Grapefruit smiled.

“Yeah…”

“…this one comes with unlimited samples.”

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Obesseus vs The Gravy Hurricane

D.T. Tucker — Tue, 21 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Snackland had survived the Great Broccoli Rebellion.

It had survived the Salad Syndicate.

It had even survived Grant the Grapefruit trying to convince everyone that pepperoni was technically a fruit.

But nothing could prepare anyone for…

THE GRAVY HURRICANE.

Dark brown clouds swirled across the sky.

Mashed potato lightning cracked overhead.

The wind smelled suspiciously like Thanksgiving dinner.

King Billy Blueberry looked through his royal binoculars.

“Evacuate the biscuit district!”

Pancakes flew through the air like frisbees.

Turkey legs rolled down the streets.

Entire neighborhoods disappeared beneath rivers of gravy.

Obesseus stared at the sky with sparkling eyes.

“Giant gravy!”

Grant slapped his forehead.

“That is NOT giant gravy! That’s a natural disaster!”

“But… tasty disaster.”

Grant sighed.

“That’s somehow worse.”

The citizens rushed for cover as the Gravy Hurricane reached the city.

Trees were coated.

Cars became biscuits.

A giant meatball bounced down Main Street yelling, “I regret everything!”

Captain Calorie Counter appeared with his emergency megaphone.

“Nobody is to enjoy this!”

“Remain miserable in an orderly fashion!”

“The Fun Prevention Protocol is now in effect!”

Obesseus blinked.

“Why him always show up?”

Captain Calorie Counter adjusted his clipboard.

“Because someone has to make sure no one smiles during emergencies.”

Meanwhile…

Allen Apple and Jeff Jelly were putting up bright yellow signs.

OVERTIME SHELTER THIS WAY

ALL EMPLOYEES REPORT IMMEDIATELY

Jeff Jelly smiled.

“Since everyone is stuck inside…”

“…they can work a double shift.”

Allen nodded proudly.

“We’ll call it Hurricane Productivity.”

Even the hurricane paused for a second.

A wave of gravy splashed directly onto both overtime signs.

Grant pointed.

“I think even the weather hates overtime.”

The storm became stronger.

A tornado made entirely of mashed potatoes spun toward Snackland Castle.

King Billy Blueberry shouted,

“We need someone brave enough to stop it!”

Everyone slowly turned toward Obesseus.

Obesseus was already running.

Not away.

Toward the gravy.

“WHEEEEEEE!”

He belly-flopped directly into the flood.

SPLOOOOSH!

The Gravy Hurricane hesitated.

The swirling gravy began disappearing.

The clouds got smaller.

The winds slowed.

Grant stared.

“…Is he…”

“…eating the hurricane?”

Obesseus emerged with gravy covering his face.

“Little spicy.”

The hurricane shrank again.

Another bite.

Smaller.

Another bite.

Even smaller.

Soon the terrifying storm had become…

…a very confused gravy cloud the size of a beach ball.

It floated away with a tiny whoosh.

Snackland erupted into cheers.

“We’re saved!”

King Billy Blueberry placed a golden biscuit medal around Obesseus’s neck.

“You have defeated the Gravy Hurricane!”

Obesseus smiled proudly.

“Can hurricane come back tomorrow?”

Grant groaned.

“Absolutely not.”

Captain Calorie Counter pulled out another clipboard.

“According to regulation 48-B, consuming weather without a permit is prohibited.”

Obesseus tilted his head.

“…Weather food?”

Captain Calorie Counter froze.

“…I…”

“…that’s not…”

“…you know what, never mind.”

For once…

Even he had no answer.

And somewhere far beyond Snackland, another dark cloud quietly formed.

Not a Gravy Hurricane.

A Mac & Cheese Monsoon.

Obesseus licked his lips.

“Oooo…”

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Obesseus Lord Of The Buffet

D.T. Tucker — Mon, 20 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000

I’m pleased to announce that Obesseus Lord of The Buffet was an honorable mention in the Storymonsters Purple Dragonfly contest . While winning this award is amazing, there is more to be done.

So here is what is coming down the line :

There will be a new Obesseus book in quarter 4.

You will recognize the newest and a few of classic characters in the books.

Go get your copy of Operation Gravy Blockade today!

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Obesseus vs Traffic Trilogy

D.T. Tucker — Tue, 14 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Obesseus vs. Traffic

Obesseus skipped happily down the road with Grant the Grapefruit.

“Grant! Obesseus smell pizza!”

Grant sniffed.

“I think that’s Pepperoni Bridge. Nugget Hut is right across it.”

“Hee hee! Obesseus get nuggets! Maybe pizza! Maybe both!”

The two rounded the corner.

Grant stopped.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Pepperoni Bridge was completely blocked.

Hundreds of giant traffic cones stretched from one side to the other.

Except these weren’t ordinary traffic cones.

They were enormous vanilla ice cream cones standing upside down.

Some had chocolate-dipped tops.

Others were covered in sprinkles.

Obesseus gasped.

“WHY ICE CREAM STANDING ON HEAD?! ICE CREAM GO IN BELLY!”

A whistle echoed across the bridge.

Captain Calorie Counter marched into view wearing a bright orange safety vest and holding an oversized stop sign.

“Bridge closed!”

Grant looked around.

“I don’t see any construction.”

“There isn’t any.”

“So…why is it closed?”

Captain Calorie Counter smiled proudly.

“I closed it.”

“You…just decided to?”

“I wanted everyone to experience a healthier commute.”

Grant slowly rubbed his temples.

“I’m afraid to ask.”

Captain Calorie Counter unfolded a gigantic detour map.

“You’ll simply take this route.”

Grant followed the red line with his finger.

“…This goes straight through the Salad Syndicate camp.”

“Correct.”

“The camp that catapults kale?”

“Yes.”

“The camp that hands out celery?”

“Exactly.”

“The camp that forces visitors to attend motivational lectures about spinach?”

Captain Calorie Counter beamed.

“Attendance is mandatory.”

Obesseus looked horrified.

“NOOOO! Obesseus no want leaf people! Leaf people make tummy cry!”

A family of French fries walked up.

“We’re just trying to get across the bridge.”

“Detour!” Captain Calorie Counter shouted.

A meatball rolled forward.

“I’ve crossed this bridge every day for forty years.”

“Detour!”

A pizza delivery scooter pulled up.

“My customer’s pizza is getting cold.”

Captain Calorie Counter nodded with satisfaction.

“Excellent.”

Grant whispered, “He’s enjoying this.”

“I noticed.”

Captain Calorie Counter revealed another sign.

EXPECTED DELAY: 6 HOURS

Grant stared.

“The bridge is thirty feet long.”

“The detour includes two salad checkpoints, one kale inspection, and a mandatory lecture called Learning to Appreciate Plain Lettuce.”

Obesseus looked ready to cry.

“Captain bad! Captain steal pizza time! Captain steal nugget time! Captain steal HAPPY!”

Captain Calorie Counter folded his arms.

“Rules are rules.”

Obesseus suddenly smiled.

“Hee hee…”

Grant recognized that smile immediately.

“Oh no.”

Obesseus reached into his pocket.

“Hee hee… Pocket rice ball!”

He tossed the rice ball high into the air.

Within seconds…

Hundreds of hungry Snackland pigeons swooped from the sky.

They ignored the rice ball.

Instead…

They began devouring every single ice cream cone traffic marker.

Crunch!

Chocolate.

Vanilla.

Sprinkles.

Gone.

Captain Calorie Counter’s eyes grew wider with every disappearing cone.

“My traffic control system!”

One pigeon politely licked the last sprinkle off the pavement.

Without the cones, everyone simply walked across Pepperoni Bridge.

The French fries cheered.

The meatball rolled across.

The pizza delivery scooter sped away.

Nobody even glanced toward the Salad Syndicate camp.

Captain Calorie Counter collapsed onto the bridge.

“My beautiful detour…”

Obesseus skipped past carrying a pizza in one hand and a bucket of nuggets in the other.

“Hee hee! Obesseus win! Captain lose! Traffic all gone! Belly say thank you!”

Grant laughed.

“I have no idea how you keep solving problems with food.”

Obesseus grinned.

“Food solve LOTS problem.”

Captain Calorie Counter sighed.

“I’ll just block the bridge again tomorrow.”

Obesseus smiled even bigger.

“Hee hee! Then Obesseus bring MORE birdies!”

As the heroes disappeared into Snackland, Captain Calorie Counter quietly put up one final sign.

ROAD CLOSED FOR EXCESSIVE FUN

A passing squirrel looked at the sign…

…picked it up…

…and used it as a picnic table.

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Obesseus vs Traffic

D.T. Tucker — Mon, 13 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Snackland had never experienced a traffic jam.

Mainly because everyone walked.

But today was different.

Obesseus waddled toward Pepperoni Bridge with Grant the Grapefruit carrying his licorice broom over his shoulder.

“I smell nuggets,” Obesseus announced, sniffing the air dramatically.

Grant nodded. “That’s because there’s a Nugget Hut on the other side of the bridge.”

The two rounded the corner.

“…Uh oh.”

The bridge was completely blocked.

Hundreds of bright orange traffic cones stretched from one end to the other.

Except in Snackland…

They weren’t orange plastic.

They were giant vanilla ice cream cones.

Some had chocolate-dipped tops.

Some were waffle cones.

One had rainbow sprinkles.

Obesseus stared in horror.

“…Why would anyone waste perfectly good cones?”

A whistle shrieked.

Captain Calorie Counter marched into view wearing a reflective safety vest that simply read:

NO FUN ROAD CREW

“Bridge closed!” he shouted.

“What happened?” Grant asked.

Captain Calorie Counter smiled far too proudly.

“Nothing.”

“…Nothing?”

“I closed it.”

“…You closed it because…?”

“It looked convenient.”

Obesseus blinked.

“So…there’s no construction?”

“No.”

“No broken bridge?”

“No.”

“No giant gravy spill?”

“No.”

“No muffin ninja attack?”

“No.”

Captain Calorie Counter proudly unfolded an enormous map.

“If you’d like to continue, you’ll need to take the official detour.”

Grant studied it.

“…This goes through the Salad Syndicate camp.”

“It certainly does.”

“The camp that throws kale.”

“Correct.”

“The camp with the cabbage catapults.”

“Exactly.”

“The camp that forces people to eat plain lettuce.”

Captain Calorie Counter grinned.

“Now you’re understanding city planning.”

Obesseus crossed his arms.

“You made traffic just so people have to eat salad?”

“I prefer the term healthy rerouting.”

Just then, a family of French fries approached.

“We just need to cross the bridge.”

Captain Calorie Counter pointed dramatically.

“Detour!”

“But we’re literally twenty feet away.”

“Detour!”

An elderly Meatball rolled up.

“I’ve crossed this bridge for forty years.”

“Detour!”

A pizza delivery scooter stopped.

“My pepperoni is getting cold.”

Captain Calorie Counter gasped.

“Excellent.”

Grant leaned toward Obesseus.

“I think he’s enjoying this.”

“I noticed.”

Captain Calorie Counter wasn’t finished.

He produced an even bigger sign.

DETOUR EXPECTED DELAY: 6 HOURS

Grant looked around.

“The bridge is only thirty feet long.”

“Correct.”

“…How is the detour six hours?”

“It includes mandatory salad appreciation seminars.”

Obesseus nearly fainted.

A tiny crouton handed everyone pamphlets titled:

‘Ranch Dressing Is a Privilege, Not a Right.’

Captain Calorie Counter smiled proudly.

“Attendance is mandatory.”

That was enough.

Obesseus slowly reached into his pocket.

Grant whispered, “Rice ball?”

Obesseus nodded.

The legendary Pocket Rice Ball appeared.

Captain Calorie Counter laughed.

“You can’t defeat proper traffic management with carbohydrates.”

Obesseus smiled.

“Maybe not…”

He tossed the rice ball high into the air.

Every pigeon in Snackland dove toward it at once.

Thousands of hungry birds swarmed the bridge.

They gobbled every ice cream cone traffic marker in seconds.

Chocolate.

Vanilla.

Waffle.

Gone.

Captain Calorie Counter watched his entire roadblock disappear.

“…My cones…”

One pigeon politely burped.

Without the cones, everyone simply walked across Pepperoni Bridge.

The French fries cheered.

The meatball rolled across.

The pizza scooter zipped away.

Nobody even glanced at the Salad Syndicate.

Captain Calorie Counter collapsed onto the pavement.

“My perfectly unnecessary traffic…”

Obesseus walked past, carrying a pepperoni pizza the size of a wagon wheel.

“You know…”

Captain Calorie Counter looked up hopefully.

“I could still close the bridge tomorrow.”

Obesseus smiled.

“I’ll bring hungry pigeons tomorrow.”

Grant chuckled.

“I think we just solved traffic forever.”

As the heroes disappeared into the sunset, Captain Calorie Counter quietly replaced one tiny sign.

SLOW… BECAUSE I SAID SO.

Nobody listened.

Even the sign ignored itself and fell over.

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Obesseus vs Employee Appreciation Lunch

D.T. Tucker — Mon, 6 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Every year, the No Fun Squad held its famous Employee Appreciation Lunch.

Unfortunately…

Nobody felt appreciated.

Allen Apple proudly stood behind a buffet that looked more like a museum exhibit.

“Welcome, employees!”

A single chicken nugget sat on one plate.

One lonely french fry rested on another.

Someone had cut a cookie into sixteen equal pieces.

Jeff Jelly smiled proudly.

“We’ve optimized lunch efficiency!”

Nobody clapped.

Angie Angelfoodcake stepped forward holding a clipboard.

“Portions will be determined by overtime hours worked.”

A groan swept through the room.

“If you worked five hours of overtime this month, you receive one scoop of mashed potatoes.”

A tiny scoop landed on a plate.

“If you worked ten hours, you receive two chicken tenders.”

Another employee cheered.

“If you worked twenty-five hours…”

The room became silent.

“…you may choose one dessert.”

Conflicted Tomato whispered, “They make us earn dessert?”

Grant the Grapefruit frowned.

“I thought appreciation was supposed to be… free.”

Allen smiled proudly.

“It is! You only had to sacrifice your evenings, weekends, holidays, and most of your sanity.”

Obesseus slowly raised his hand.

“What if me work zero overtime?”

Jeff grinned.

“You receive the Appreciation Salad.”

A single lettuce leaf landed on Obesseus’s plate.

Obesseus stared at it.

The lettuce stared back.

“…Lunch broken.”

“No,” Allen corrected. “It’s motivational.”

Obesseus walked toward the buffet.

“Me fix.”

Molly Mushroom jumped in front of him.

“Absolutely not! This lunch follows company policy.”

Obesseus pointed toward the buffet.

“It buffet.”

“It is a controlled buffet.”

“It buffet.”

“It is a reward-based buffet.”

“It still buffet.”

Obesseus scratched his head.

“If food already here…”

“…yes?”

“…why food hiding from people?”

Nobody had an answer.

Not even Molly.

Obesseus grabbed the giant serving spoon.

“Slam-Fu Buffet Style!”

WHOOSH!

Macaroni flew.

Mashed potatoes landed on every plate.

Chicken tenders rained from the serving trays.

Biscuits rolled across the floor like tiny buttery bowling balls.

Even the cookie pieces reunited into something resembling an actual cookie.

Employees stared at their full plates.

Grant smiled.

“I think this is what appreciation looks like.”

Allen Apple gasped.

“They’ve exceeded their allotted mashed potato quota!”

Jeff Jelly collapsed to his knees.

“My spreadsheets!”

Molly buried her face in her clipboard.

“I have absolutely no idea which policy covers this.”

Obesseus happily sat down with everyone else.

“Now employee appreciated.”

For the first time all afternoon, the cafeteria was full of laughter instead of complaints.

Even Molly accepted a biscuit.

She quickly looked around.

“I am taking this as evidence.”

Obesseus smiled.

“Evidence delicious.”

Some say the No Fun Squad canceled Employee Appreciation Lunch after that day.

Others say they still hold it every year.

They just keep Obesseus at least one buffet table away from the serving spoons.

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Molly Mushroom vs. Obesseus: The World’s Most Impossible Write-Up

D.T. Tucker — Wed, 1 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000

If you’ve ever wondered what would happen if the strictest HR manager in Snackland tried to discipline the hungriest hero in Snackland… today’s story has the answer.

Spoiler alert: It does not go according to plan.

Molly Mushroom marched into the Snackland breakroom carrying a stack of paperwork so tall it had its own weather pattern.

“Obesseus!” she shouted.

Obesseus looked up from a mountain of macaroni.

“Hi, mushroom lady! You bring snacks?”

“I brought disciplinary action.”

“…Is disciplinary action covered in cheese?”

“No!”

Obesseus sighed.

“No thank you.”

Molly slammed a folder onto the table.

“These are your violations.”

Obesseus blinked.

“I violate buffet?”

“No! Company policy!”

She flipped open the first page.

“Violation number one. You took a two-hour lunch.”

“I was hungry.”

“Violation number two. You used Slam-Fu inside the office.”

“There was aggressive broccoli.”

“It was a plant!”

“It look suspicious.”

“Violation number three. You filled the suggestion box with barbecue recipes.”

“They were good recipes.”

“They were seventeen copies of the same recipe!”

“It really good recipe.”

Molly’s eye twitched.

“Violation number four. You replaced the employee handbook with a cookbook.”

“People read cookbook.”

“…That’s actually true.”

She shook her head.

“Focus, Molly!”

She grabbed a pen.

“I’m writing you up.”

Obesseus smiled.

“You write book too?”

“This isn’t a book!”

“You sure? It have chapters.”

“It has sections!”

“It have title.”

“It needs a title!”

“It have page numbers.”

Molly stared at the paperwork.

“…I hate that you’re making sense.”

Obesseus leaned over.

“What title?”

Molly sighed dramatically.

“‘Employee Misconduct Report.’”

Obesseus nodded.

“Boring title.”

“It doesn’t need to be exciting!”

“Need dragon.”

“There are no dragons!”

“Need gravy explosion.”

“No!”

“Need Jeff Jelly getting yelled at.”

“…That part is tempting.”

Just then Jeff Jelly walked through the door carrying another stack of overtime forms.

“Great news, everyone!”

Nobody looked excited.

“I’ve scheduled mandatory Saturday overtime!”

A dramatic record scratch echoed through Snackland.

Obesseus slowly stood.

Grant the Grapefruit peeked around the corner.

“…Should I get the popcorn?”

“Yes,” whispered Zach the Zucchini.

Molly pointed her pen at Obesseus.

“Don’t you dare!”

Too late.

SLAM-FU!

The shockwave launched every overtime form into the air like confetti.

Allen Apple screamed.

Angie Angelfoodcake dove under a desk.

Jeff Jelly chased paperwork across the room yelling,

“Those were alphabetized!”

One form landed directly on Molly’s clipboard.

She looked down.

Every single write-up she’d spent the last hour preparing had vanished beneath a rainstorm of overtime requests.

She slowly lowered her pen.

“…I’m going to lunch.”

Obesseus grinned.

“Two hours?”

Molly thought about it.

“…Three.”

Obesseus proudly raised a spoon.

“See? Balance.”

Snackland wasn’t sure whether Obesseus had won the argument or simply confused everyone into giving up.

Either way…

No write-up was ever completed.

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Operation Gravy Blockade has Launched!

D.T. Tucker — Tue, 9 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Today is a huge day in Snackland!

I’m excited to announce that Obesseus: Operation Gravy Blockade, the fourth adventure in the Obesseus series, is now officially available!

Award Recognition

Operation Gravy Blockade has already earned recognition, including:

• Literary Titan 5-Star Award

• Reader’s Favorite Award Winner

This launch also marks another major milestone:

🎉 One year ago, Obesseus: Lord of the Buffet was released.

What started as one wild food-filled adventure has grown into an expanding universe of characters, jokes, battles, and life lessons. Thank you to everyone who has supported Obesseus through purchases, reviews, recommendations, and encouragement.

Whether you’ve been here since Lord of the Buffet or are jumping into Snackland with Operation Gravy Blockade, thank you for being part of the journey.

The war against overtime has begun.

See you in Snackland!

D.T. Tucker

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Operation Gravy Blockade

D.T. Tucker — Thu, 4 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

You’ve asked and I delivered! Obesseus Operation Gravy Blockade is available for preorder! Join Obesseus in fighting the battle against the forces of overtime! The battle begins June 9th. Preorder now or miss the gravy train!

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Obesseus: The Worst Hire in Snackland Press History

D.T. Tucker — Thu, 21 May 2026 00:00:00 +0000

The fluorescent lights of Snackland Press buzzed like angry bees trapped in a microwave.

Stacks of OVERTIME forms towered across Jeff Jelly’s office like unstable lasagna layers. His tie was crooked. His eyeballs twitched every time another printer spit out paperwork.

“MORE FORMS!” Jeff screamed.

A nearby intern fainted directly into a beanbag chair.

Allen Apple peeked through the doorway holding six clipboards and a stress ball shaped like a raisin.

“Jeff… Molly Mushroom still hasn’t answered your emails.”

Jeff slowly turned.

“That’s because Molly Mushroom fears RESPONSIBILITY.”

Allen blinked.

“She’s HR.”

“EXACTLY.”

Jeff slammed a giant red button labeled:

MANDATORY OVERTIME PROTOCOL

Sirens blared throughout Snackland Press.

A robotic voice echoed through the building.

“ATTENTION EMPLOYEES. FUN HAS BEEN TEMPORARILY SUSPENDED.”

Across town, Molly Mushroom sat peacefully at a tiny café sipping mushroom soup while her phone vibrated itself across the table like a haunted hockey puck.

JEFF JELLY CALLING

Decline.

Five seconds later:

JEFF JELLY CALLING AGAIN

Decline.

Five seconds later:

JEFF JELLY VIDEO CALLING

Molly sighed.

“Absolutely not.”

Decline.

Then came the voicemail notifications.

“Molly, this is Jeff. We need overtime volunteers.”

“Molly, this is Jeff again. Nobody volunteered.”

“Molly, this is Jeff again again. Allen cried.”

“Molly… where are you?”

She muted her phone and took another sip.

Peace.

Beautiful peace.

Then her hiring app dinged.

Molly frowned.

“Oh right. I forgot I left auto-hiring on.”

The screen displayed:

NEW MANAGEMENT APPLICANT APPROVED

Name: Obesseus

Experience: “BUFFET”

References: “GRAVY”

Special Skills: “SLAM-FU”

Desired Salary: “CHEESEBURGER”

Molly stared at the screen for a full ten seconds.

“…That can’t be right.”

Meanwhile, back at Snackland Press, the front doors exploded open.

Smoke rolled across the lobby.

Obesseus entered wearing a tiny necktie stretched to its absolute physical limit.

Behind him marched Grant the Grapefruit carrying a milkshake.

“Obesseus here for MANAGEMENT!”

The receptionist gasped.

“Who approved this?!”

Obesseus proudly held up the printed email.

It read:

CONGRATULATIONS! YOU ARE NOW MANAGEMENT.

Signed,

Molly Mushroom

HR Department

Grant nearly dropped his milkshake laughing.

“Oh no.”

Obesseus slammed both fists onto the receptionist desk.

“FIRST MANAGEMENT ORDER!”

Everyone froze.

Obesseus pointed dramatically toward the break room.

“REMOVE SALAD.”

Jeff Jelly burst out of his office like a panicked jellybean tornado.

“WHO ARE YOU?!”

Obesseus adjusted his tiny tie.

“OBESSEUS MANAGEMENT.”

Jeff snatched the paper.

His face turned pale.

Then red.

Then somehow purple.

“MOLLY MUSHROOM HIRED YOU?!”

“YES.”

“FOR MANAGEMENT?!”

“YES.”

“WHY?!”

Obesseus shrugged.

“MUSHROOM CLICK BUTTON.”

Allen Apple slowly backed away whispering:

“We’re doomed.”

Jeff immediately grabbed the office phone and called Molly again.

Straight to voicemail.

Jeff growled through clenched teeth.

“Molly Mushroom… answer… your… PHONE.”

Meanwhile, Obesseus had already entered the conference room and replaced the quarterly budget presentation with a gravy fountain.

Employees gathered around cheering.

Someone started throwing biscuits.

Grant the Grapefruit leaned against the doorway sipping his milkshake.

“You know… technically morale has improved.”

Jeff’s eye twitched hard enough to nearly reboot reality.

Then Obesseus stood atop the conference table.

“MANAGEMENT MEETING!”

Everyone went silent.

Obesseus pointed at the giant overtime board.

“NO OVERTIME.”

The employees gasped.

Jeff nearly collapsed.

Obesseus then pointed toward the cafeteria.

“ONLY BUFFETTIME.” 🍔🔥

The entire office erupted into applause.

Somewhere across town, Molly Mushroom finally checked her phone again.

She saw 47 missed calls from Jeff Jelly.

Then she saw the notification:

“EMPLOYEE PRODUCTIVITY HAS INCREASED 900%”

Molly blinked.

“…How did he accidentally fix the office?”

]]>

SNACKLAND PRESS SPECIAL REPORT “Overtime vs. Obesseus: The June 4th Incident (and the June 9th Aftershock)”

D.T. Tucker — Thu, 30 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Snackland Press had barely finished alphabetizing its third stack of “URGENT BUT UNCLEAR” memos when Allen Apple struck.

Clipboard in hand. Tie too tight. Eyes glowing with the faint, dangerous shimmer of policy enforcement.

“Alright team,” Allen announced, tapping the board labeled MANDATORY PRODUCTIVITY INITIATIVE. “We’re implementing overtime.”

A hush fell across the room.

Somewhere in the distance, a gravy fountain slowed… as if sensing danger.

Jeff Jelly slid into position beside Allen, clutching a stack of forms labeled OVERTIME ACKNOWLEDGMENT — PLEASE DON’T READ, JUST SIGN.

“Phase one begins June 4th,” Jeff said, voice wobbling like unset gelatin. “Phase two escalates June 9th. Double overtime. Triple documentation. No fun.”

From across the room came a deep, echoing slurp.

Obesseus.

He didn’t look up from his plate.

“OBESSEUS HEAR WORD ‘OVERTIME,’” he said, calmly scooping a mountain of mashed potatoes. “OBESSEUS DO NOT LIKE WORD.”

Grant the Grapefruit leaned against a filing cabinet, casually polishing his shades.

“Oh this should be good,” Grant muttered. “They brought paperwork to a buffet fight.”

June 4th: The First Attempt

Allen marched forward like a general of spreadsheets.

“Obesseus, Grant—you are both required to report for extended duties starting June 4th. This includes—”

Obesseus stood up.

Not fast. Not dramatic.

Just… inevitable.

Like a buffet table realizing it’s about to get emptied.

“NO,” Obesseus said.

Silence.

Allen blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“NO,” Obesseus repeated, louder this time. “JUNE 4TH NOT FOR OVERTIME.”

Jeff nervously flipped through his notes. “But… but it’s on the schedule…”

Grant pushed himself off the cabinet, strolling into the center like he’d been waiting his whole life for this exact moment.

“You two really thought June 4th belonged to you?” Grant said, smirking. “That’s adorable.”

Allen adjusted his glasses. “It’s a standard operational date.”

Grant laughed.

Not a polite laugh. Not a corporate chuckle.

A this-meeting-is-over laugh.

“June 4th,” Grant said, pointing at the board, “is preorder day.”

The room shifted.

Even the ninja muffins stopped mid-flip.

Obesseus raised his arms like a champion entering the arena.

“OPERATION GRAVY BLOCKADE… AVAILABLE FOR PREORDER JUNE 4TH!”

The words echoed like thunder wrapped in gravy.

Allen froze.

Jeff dropped his forms.

June 9th: The Final Attempt

Allen, now visibly shaken but still clinging to the last scraps of structure, cleared his throat.

“Fine. Fine. We’ll… adjust June 4th. But June 9th—June 9th is locked. Mandatory overtime. No exceptions.”

Jeff nodded rapidly. “Yes! June 9th is non-negotiable! It’s… it’s… peak efficiency day!”

Grant slowly turned.

That same dangerous calm.

“That so?”

Obesseus stepped forward again, this time with a grin that spelled chaos incoming.

“JUNE 9TH…” Obesseus began.

Jeff braced himself.

Allen clenched his clipboard.

“IS LAUNCH DAY.”

The room exploded.

Gravy fountains surged.

Signs fell off the walls.

A random intern screamed, “IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW!”

Grant snapped his fingers. “That’s right. June 9th… Operation Gravy Blockade goes live.”

Obesseus stomped once, sending a ripple through the floor.

“NO OVERTIME. ONLY STORYTIME.”

The Collapse of Overtime Authority

Allen tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

Jeff attempted to gather his papers, but they slipped through his gelatinous hands like a metaphor that writes itself.

Around them, Snackland Press came alive.

Not with order.

Not with structure.

But with something far more dangerous to the No-Fun Squad:

Anticipation.

Grant leaned in close to Allen, lowering his voice just enough to sting.

“You tried to assign overtime to a buffet legend and a chaos consultant,” he said. “On launch week.”

He patted Allen on the shoulder.

“That’s not scheduling. That’s self-sabotage.”

Official Announcement

- June 4th → Preorder Opens for Operation Gravy Blockade
- June 9th → Official Launch Day

No forms required.
No approvals needed.
No overtime accepted.

Final Notes from Snackland Press

Allen Apple has since been seen reorganizing an empty folder labeled “Control.”
Jeff Jelly is reportedly still trying to file a complaint that keeps sliding off the page.

Obesseus?

Back at the buffet.

Winning.

Grant?

Watching it all unfold… like he planned it five moves ago.

And somewhere, deep in the chaos, a single message echoes through Snackland:

You don’t schedule legends. You preorder them.

]]>

Obesseus vs. Jeff Jelly: The Gravy Heist That Shouldn’t Have Happened

D.T. Tucker — Sun, 12 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

There are many rules in Snackland.

Some are written.

Some are whispered.

And some… are carved into the very fabric of existence itself.

Rule #1: You do NOT touch Obesseus’s gravy.

Jeff Jelly either didn’t know…

…or didn’t care.

Standing at the edge of the buffet, he adjusted his tie, eyes twitching with overtime-fueled intensity. His laptop glowed ominously, tracking bite counts, sauce usage, and what he labeled as “Excessive Flavor Violations.”

“And there it is,” Jeff whispered, locking onto his target.

The Gravy.

Not just any gravy.

This was The Vat.

A bubbling, glorious, golden-brown ocean of power sitting beside Obesseus like a loyal companion. Steam rose from it like it had something to say… and what it had to say was “try it.”

Jeff cracked his knuckles.

“Seven-day overtime protocol initiated.”

The buffet lights flickered.

Green beans rose from the floor like prison bars.

Doors sealed shut.

Somewhere, a biscuit screamed.

Obesseus didn’t look up.

He was mid-dip.

A sacred motion.

A crispy piece of fried chicken descending slowly into the gravy, like a hero returning home.

Jeff took a step forward.

Then another.

“You’ve exceeded your gravy quota,” Jeff announced, voice trembling with power. “Effective immediately, all gravy assets are being seized and redistributed under the No Fun Act.”

That’s when Obesseus froze.

The chicken… hovered… halfway submerged.

Drip…

Drip…

Silence.

Obesseus slowly turned.

Eyes locked.

“Repeat that.”

Jeff gulped… but doubled down.

“I’m taking the gravy.”

A mistake.

A historic mistake.

A mistake that future textbooks would describe as “bold, but deeply incorrect.”

Obesseus stood.

The ground beneath him trembled like mashed potatoes during an emotional breakdown.

“You… take… gravy?”

Jeff raised his laptop.

“By authority of the Overtime Council—YES.”

He hit a key.

The gravy… lifted.

LEVITATED.

Pulled upward like it was being dragged by invisible strings.

The Vat began to rise.

A gasp rippled through the buffet.

“No…” someone whispered.

“HE’S ACTUALLY DOING IT.”

Obesseus watched as the gravy ascended… inch by inch… like the universe itself was betraying him.

Then—

He cracked his neck.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Terrifying.

“You have chosen… starvation.”

Jeff blinked.

“What—”

Too late.

Obesseus MOVED.

Not fast.

Not flashy.

Just inevitable.

One step forward… and the green bean bars shattered.

Two steps… and the buffet tables realigned themselves like they were making room for a storm.

Three steps…

And Obesseus leaped.

Mid-air, he spun—grabbing a ladle the size of destiny itself.

“GRAVY… RETURNS… TO ME!”

WHOOOOSH.

The ladle struck the floating vat.

Gravity remembered its job.

The gravy came crashing down like a delicious meteor.

Jeff screamed.

“NO—MY DATA—”

Too late.

The wave hit.

A tidal flood of gravy swallowed the laptop, the green beans, the entire overtime system.

Jeff Jelly disappeared beneath it, reduced to a flailing silhouette in a sea of flavor.

Silence followed.

Drip…

Drip…

Obesseus landed.

Perfectly.

He reached down… scooped up a plate… dipped it into the now-restored vat… and took a bite.

Balance had been restored.

Moments later, Jeff’s head popped out of the gravy, eyes wide, tie soaked, soul… reconsidering everything.

“I… I just wanted to optimize…” he muttered.

Obesseus looked at him.

Calm now.

Almost merciful.

“You do not optimize… the buffet.”

Jeff nodded slowly.

“I see that now.”

Grant the Grapefruit burst in, exactly five minutes late, holding a whistle.

“Sorry! I was coaching a relay race between three lasagnas and a sentient garlic knot—”

He paused.

Looked around.

“…why is Jeff in the gravy?”

Obesseus shrugged.

“He applied… for immersion.”

Grant nodded.

“Fair.”

And somewhere, deep beneath the surface of the vat…

Jeff Jelly quietly turned off the overtime protocol.

Forever.

]]>

Obesseus vs Overtime : The Buffet Incident

D.T. Tucker — Mon, 6 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Allen Apple checked his clipboard like it was the sacred scroll of Snackland productivity.

“According to my calculations,” he muttered, adjusting his tie that was somehow both too tight and too loose at the same time, “everyone here is currently underperforming by… fun.”

He looked up.

And immediately regretted existing.

Because across the room—no, across the kingdom of chrome trays and steam—stood Obesseus.

In full.

Buffet.

Mode.

We’re talking triple-stack plate architecture. We’re talking gravy waterfalls cascading like destiny itself. We’re talking a chocolate fountain that had been reclassified as a personal hydration source.

Obesseus turned slowly, a breadstick in each hand like edible nunchucks.

“Who… interrupts… the Feast?”

Allen swallowed.

This was not in the training manual.

Still, he stepped forward, trembling with corporate courage.

“Obesseus, I’m going to need you to clock in for overtime.”

The room went quiet.

Even the mashed potatoes stopped bubbling.

“Over… time?” Obesseus repeated, like the words were foreign. Dangerous. Possibly illegal.

“Yes,” Allen said, flipping his clipboard dramatically. “We’ve implemented a new point system. Every bite you take must now be logged under ‘approved consumption hours.’ You are currently… twelve thousand bites over budget.”

A pause.

Then—

Obesseus laughed.

Not a chuckle. Not a giggle.

A full, echoing, buffet-rattling laugh that made the sneeze guards tremble.

“YOU TRY TO PUT A TIMER… ON HUNGER?”

Allen, sweating now, nodded weakly.

“Y-yes. It’s very efficient.”

Obesseus took a slow step forward.

Another.

Each step sounded like a drumbeat of destiny… or possibly just someone dropping meatballs.

“I do not clock in,” Obesseus said, dipping a roll into gravy like it was a ritual. “The buffet… clocks around me.”

Allen tried one last time.

“Look, if you just sign here, we can get you on a structured meal plan. Maybe limit you to two plates per hour, with a scheduled snack break—”

The breadstick nunchucks spun.

FAST.

Allen blinked.

The clipboard was gone.

Replaced with… a plate.

A full plate.

“Eat,” Obesseus commanded.

“I—I don’t think that’s in my job descr—”

“EAT.”

Allen took a bite.

And something changed.

The spreadsheets in his mind… softened.

The numbers… melted.

The concept of “overtime” began to feel like a distant, ridiculous myth.

“Wait,” Allen said, chewing slowly. “This is… incredible.”

Obesseus nodded.

“Welcome… to unlimited.”

Behind them, the overtime sign Allen had taped to the wall… slipped loose.

Fell.

And disappeared beneath a tidal wave of macaroni and cheese.

Grant the Grapefruit burst through the doors at that exact moment, soaking wet.

“Sorry I’m late! I got stuck refereeing a gravy wrestling match between two sentient biscuits—”

He stopped.

Saw Allen.

Eating.

Smiling.

Free.

“…I miss anything?”

Obesseus grinned.

“Only the end… of overtime.”

And somewhere, deep in the halls of Snackland Press, a spreadsheet cried softly… before being eaten.

]]>

Obesseus vs. Probability & Linear Algebra

D.T. Tucker — Tue, 17 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Obesseus vs. Probability & Linear Algebra

Snackland Press did not approve this meeting.

Professor Math called it “necessary.”

Josh JollyRancher called it “inevitable.”

Obesseus called it “suspicious.”

Two chalkboards were set up.

On the left: Probability.
On the right: Linear Algebra.

In the middle: Obesseus… eating.

“Today,” Professor Math began, “we combine both disciplines.”

Josh JollyRancher stepped forward.

“Grant the Grapefruit will help us.”

From outside the room:

“I’m on my way!”

Everyone checked the clock.

He was already late.

Josh wrote the problem:

“Grant has a 20% chance of arriving on time. Each time he arrives late, we represent it as a vector.”

Professor Math drew three tall column vectors.

Obesseus squinted.

“Why numbers stacked like candy canes again?”

“They’re vectors,” Professor Math said.

“Candy vectors,” Obesseus corrected.

Josh continued.

“If Grant is late three times, what is the probability pattern, and how does it transform over time?”

Professor Math rotated the vectors dramatically.

“Observe the transformation.”

Obesseus leaned in.

“Candy canes still doing gymnastics.”

“Yes,” Professor Math said. “They are transforming across dimensions.”

Josh added more to the board:

P(Late) = 0.8
P(On Time) = 0.2

“Now we model Grant’s lateness as a system.”

Obesseus raised his hand.

“Obesseus model system.”

“No,” both professors said instantly.

Too late.

Obesseus stood up and grabbed the chalk.

He rewrote everything.

0.8 hunger + 0.2 patience = problem

Then he added:

3 late Grants = 3 meals missed

He paused.

This was serious.

Then he drew a massive bowl.

Solution: buffet

Josh JollyRancher blinked.

“That is not a probabilistic model.”

“Yes it is,” Obesseus said.

“Probability say what might happen.”

He tapped the board.

“This what WILL happen.”

Professor Math stepped in quickly.

“Let’s restore order.”

He circled the vectors.

“These represent Grant’s repeated lateness.”

Josh added:

“And the probability determines how often it occurs.”

Obesseus nodded slowly.

Then he reached up…

…and added sauce to the board.

“Now system seasoned.”

Professor Math froze.

Josh JollyRancher stared into the void.

At that exact moment, the door burst open.

Grant the Grapefruit stumbled in.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I got distracted.”

Professor Math pointed wildly.

“SEE? THE MODEL WORKS!”

Josh nodded.

“Probability confirmed!”

Obesseus shook his head.

“No.”

He walked to the board.

Erased everything with one swipe.

Then wrote:

Grant late + Obesseus hungry = buffet time

He circled it three times.

Professor Math sat down.

Josh JollyRancher sat down.

Grant grabbed a chair.

Still late.

Obesseus picked up his fork.

“Math try very hard,” he said.

“But math forget one thing.”

He took a bite.

“Obesseus always solution.”

Lesson concluded.

Crossover unsuccessful.

]]>

Obesseus vs Linear Algebra

D.T. Tucker — Mon, 9 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Snackland Press experienced an educational emergency today.

Professor Math and Josh JollyRancher arrived carrying chalkboards, textbooks, and an alarming amount of confidence.

Their mission:

Teach Obesseus linear algebra.

Obesseus immediately suspected foul play.

“This look like homework ambush,” he said.

Josh JollyRancher ignored the warning and began writing on the board.

“Let’s start with a word problem.”

Professor Math nodded approvingly.

Josh continued.

“Grant the Grapefruit is always five minutes late.”

Everyone in the room nodded.

This was scientifically verified.

“If Grant arrives at three different places today,” Josh said, writing numbers on the board, “how late will he be in total?”

Professor Math wrote:

5 + 5 + 5 = ?

Obesseus raised his hand.

“Fifteen minutes,” he said confidently.

Professor Math smiled.

“Correct. Now we represent that using vectors.”

He drew three tall column vectors.

Obesseus leaned closer to the chalkboard.

He stared.

And stared.

Then he asked the question that stopped the lesson completely.

“Why numbers stacked like vertical candy canes?”

Josh JollyRancher blinked.

“Those are column vectors.”

“Candy vectors,” Obesseus corrected.

“They look like peppermint lineup.”

Professor Math sighed and continued.

“Vectors represent values in space.”

Obesseus nodded slowly.

Then he grabbed the chalk.

“Obesseus solve problem.”

Before anyone could react, he rewrote the equation.

5 dumplings + 5 dumplings + 5 dumplings = 15 dumplings

He circled the answer.

“Edible solution.”

Josh JollyRancher rubbed his temples.

“That is not linear algebra.”

“Yes it is,” Obesseus insisted.

“Numbers become dumplings. Dumplings go in stomach. Problem resolved.”

Professor Math tried again.

“Let’s talk about transformations.”

He rotated the vectors.

Obesseus leaned forward suspiciously.

“Why candy canes doing gymnastics?”

“They’re being transformed.”

Obesseus thought about this for a moment.

Then he drew a gravy bowl next to the matrix.

“If numbers transform,” he said, “they transform into lunch.”

At that exact moment, the door burst open.

Grant the Grapefruit stumbled inside.

“Sorry I’m late,” Grant said. “Traffic. And also I forgot where I was going.”

Professor Math pointed dramatically.

“Perfect! Grant is fifteen minutes late!”

Obesseus nodded thoughtfully.

Then he wrote a final equation on the board.

Grant lateness + Obesseus hunger = buffet

He circled the answer twice.

Lesson concluded.

Linear algebra remains unsolved.

]]>

Obesseus vs. Absolute Value The Breadstick Containment Crisis

D.T. Tucker — Sat, 28 Feb 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Professor Math wrote carefully on the board:

| x |

Josh Jollyrancher stood beside him like a disappointed lemon.

“This,” Professor Math said calmly, “is absolute value.”

Obesseus leaned forward.

“…Why the chopstick number in breadstick jail.”

Josh closed his eyes. “They are not breadsticks.”

“It two long crispy bars,” Obesseus said. “They imprisoning the x.”

Professor Math adjusted his glasses. “Absolute value means the distance from zero.”

Obesseus gasped.

“THEY MEASURE HOW FAR CHOPSTICK NUMBER ESCAPED.”

“No,” Professor Math said. “It simply makes negatives positive.”

Obesseus froze.

“…So if number sad, they force it to smile.”

Josh hesitated.

“…In a way.”

Obesseus pointed at the board.

“You put negative number inside breadstick cage… and when it come out, it happy?”

Professor Math nodded weakly. “Yes.”

Obesseus stood up dramatically.

“THAT EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION.”

Josh grabbed the chalk.

| -5 | = 5

“There,” he said. “Simple.”

Obesseus stared.

“So five go in mad… and come out pretending nothing happened.”

The classroom got quiet.

Professor Math began sweating.

Obesseus slowly reached into his pocket.

He pulled out two actual breadsticks.

He placed them upright on his desk.

He set a meatball between them.

“This absolute meatball,” he declared.

Josh shouted, “STOP MAKING EDIBLE EXAMPLES.”

Obesseus lifted the meatball.

“When meatball inside breadstick… it safe.”

“That’s not the concept!”

“But if meatball negative… breadstick hug it until positive.”

Professor Math blinked.

“…That is disturbingly close.”

Josh erased the board frantically.

Obesseus pointed at the bars again.

“So absolute value is breadstick hug that erase sadness.”

Professor Math sighed.

“…Yes.”

Obesseus smiled proudly.

“Math just comfort food.”

The lights flickered.

The vertical bars on the board began stretching.

They grew taller.

Longer.

Crunchier.

The x tried to escape.

The breadsticks snapped shut.

The classroom trembled.

Obesseus grabbed his gravy bucket.

“If breadstick cage try to take my numbers, I respond with sauce.”

Gravy flew.

The bars dissolved.

The x rolled away free and emotionally balanced.

Josh collapsed into a chair.

Professor Math stared at the empty board.

“We should never have used vertical lines.”

]]>

Taxes vs. Grant the Grapefruit & Obesseus

D.T. Tucker — Sun, 15 Feb 2026 00:00:00 +0000

The clock struck midnight.

Grant the Grapefruit stared at it.

The clock struck 12:01.

Grant blinked.

The clock struck 12:05.

Silence.

Grant slowly lowered the pen.

“…I am five minutes late.”

Across the room, Obesseus gasped like someone had just dropped a tray of biscuits.

“THE TAXES ARE COMING.”

Professor Math froze mid-calculation.

Grant stood up stiffly. “It is a minor administrative delay.”

The lights flickered.

A knock echoed through Snackland Press.

Three slow knocks.

Obesseus dove behind a filing cabinet.

“THEY SMELL THE GRAVY.”

Grant adjusted his tie, but it was trembling.

“No one smells gravy. This is digital submission.”

The door burst open.

In walked… a giant envelope.

It wore sunglasses.

It said NOTICE across its chest.

Obesseus screamed.

“IT WALKING.”

Professor Math fainted into a stack of receipts.

Grant attempted diplomacy. “We apologize for the five-minute delay.”

The envelope tilted its head.

A loud ripping sound echoed.

Paper forms shot out like ninja stars.

Obesseus retaliated immediately.

He hurled a biscuit.

Direct hit.

Grant threw a grapefruit slice like a shuriken.

The envelope dodged.

Professor Math woke up and launched a calculator.

Obesseus grabbed a ladle of gravy and flung it dramatically.

“NO TAX SHALL TAKE MY SAUCE.”

The envelope screeched, stamping the floor with giant red letters:

LATE FEE.

Grant’s monocle nearly popped off.

“Impossible. I schedule everything.”

“You five minutes late!” Obesseus yelled. “You broke time.”

Grant looked at the clock in horror.

“Daylight savings…”

The envelope grew larger.

It unfolded into multiple forms.

Schedules A through Z hovered in the air like hostile paperwork birds.

Obesseus started throwing food indiscriminately.

Sandwich.

Chopsticks.

Donut.

A fraction tile for emotional reasons.

Professor Math attempted to reason with the forms.

“Please! We have itemized deductions!”

The envelope paused.

Grant, sweating citrus oil, shouted:

“Charitable gravy donations!”

Obesseus blinked. “…That a thing?”

Grant whispered urgently, “It is now.”

The envelope trembled.

The red LATE FEE stamp flickered.

Obesseus seized the moment and launched an entire gravy bucket.

The envelope slipped. Forms scattered. Receipts fluttered like defeated confetti.

The door slammed shut.

Silence.

Grant straightened his tie.

“…Next year we file early.”

Obesseus, covered in gravy and powdered sugar, nodded solemnly.

“Taxes tried to take sauce.”

Grant sighed.

“They took five dollars.”

Obesseus froze.

“…THAT FIVE DOLLAR WAS FOR BISCUITS.”

Chaos resumed.

]]>

Obesseus vs Taxes( The Gravy Audit )

D.T. Tucker — Tue, 3 Feb 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Obesseus knew something was wrong the moment the letter arrived.

No crumbs.

No sauce stains.

No joy.

It said IMPORTANT in big angry letters.

Josh Jollyrancher slid the paper across the table. “You owe taxes.”

Obesseus squinted. “Owe who.”

“The government.”

Obesseus gasped. “THEY KNOW ABOUT THE GRAVY?”

Professor Math adjusted his glasses. “It’s not about gravy.”

“They always say that,” Obesseus whispered.

Josh pointed to the form. “You earned income.”

Obesseus nodded. “Yes. From buffet.”

“And now,” Josh continued, “a portion must be paid.”

Obesseus froze.

“…Portion.”

Professor Math drew a diagram.

Total Gravy − Tax = Net Gravy

The room went silent.

“They taking gravy off top?” Obesseus asked.

“No,” Professor Math said quickly. “It’s proportional.”

Obesseus slammed the table. “PROPORTIONAL GRAVY LOSS IS STILL GRAVY LOSS.”

Josh sighed. “You don’t pay in gravy.”

Obesseus looked around suspiciously. “Then why they want numbers shaped like bowls.”

Professor Math tried a softer approach. “Think of it as contributing to roads.”

“Gravy roads?” Obesseus asked hopefully.

“…Regular roads.”

“So I pay gravy for no gravy road.”

Josh nodded. “Yes.”

Obesseus stood up. “THAT A SCAM.”

Josh flipped to another page. “This is withholding.”

Obesseus’s eyes widened. “THEY WITHHOLD THE GRAVY BEFORE I EVEN SEE IT?”

Professor Math whispered, “He’s learning too fast.”

Josh pointed to a pie chart.

“This shows your tax bracket.”

Obesseus leaned in. “Why gravy in cage.”

“It’s not a cage.”

“It surrounded,” Obesseus said. “Free gravy should roam.”

Josh lost it. “NO ONE IS STEALING YOUR GRAVY.”

At that exact moment, a pipe burst.

Gravy flooded the floor.

Obesseus screamed. “THE AUDIT HAS BEGUN.”

He grabbed his bucket and fled through the door, shouting, “YOU WILL NOT TAKE MY GRAVY.”

Josh stared at the chaos.

Professor Math sighed. “We should have started with deductions.”

A word from the Snackland Financial Advisory :

If Obesseus hears the word portion

during tax season,

hide the gravy.

]]>