You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. By now it is only common sense that Bill Cosby loves marshmallows. From their milky white texture to the way they feel like toxic sludge when you put them in your mouth, marshmallows are incomparable to any other food in the world. Even spaghetti, believe it or not. But I bet you haven’t heard of the escapades Bill has been through involving the fluffy, tasty creations.
The year was 1994 AD. Bill’s ego was riding high from the incredible, overwhelming sucess of The Cosby Mysteries. He was taking his daily jog through the park, listening to Fats Domino on his new TalkBoy. His head bob-a-dob-dobbed and his knees rat-a-tat-tatted rhythmically to the quick tumpa-tumpa of his heartbeat.
I know what you’re thinking: “This isn’t your ordinary run-of-the-mill slow paced yet healthy jog for Mr. Cosby!” Well, you’re right! Bill had marshmallows on the mind, and after the stroll he headed straight for the supermarket. Holding his basket out like a collection plate, he swept all of the bags of marshmallows he could find in, even the generic brands.
Before he could make his way to the counter, he was grabbed from behind and pulled into the employee restroom. “Get your hands off the Cosb!” shouted Bill, but this didn’t stop the assailant from sitting Bill in the sink and gluing his arms to the mirror with a hot glue gun that must’ve been conveniently placed in the bathroom. Bill hadn’t been in this much trouble since Malcolm Jamal-Warner caught him eating his crescent rolls.
“Mr. Cosby, with all due respect, if you keep eating those marshmallows by the fistful, you’ll be too large for TV!” Bill’s reply to this was his trademark rolling of the eyes, complete with laugh track. “Now see here,” Bill said. “It’s not like I’m eating delicious Jello Puddin’ Pops, they’re harmless little tufts of puff! Please, please, PLEASE feed me some, right now!” Bill opened his mouth wide and wiggled his tongue around, waiting to be treated. He was treated to a hard slap in the face. Bill looked at the man angrily. “Hey hey hey!” he roared in an enraged Fat Albert voice.
Their bickering eventually led to the signing of a pact; Bill was not allowed to eat marshmallows ever again. Bill did not jog home that day, he walked. His head did not bob-a-dob-dob and his knees did not rat-a-tat-tat. His TalkBoy ate his Fats Domino tape, but he didn’t care.
The first couple of weeks under the rule went surprisingly well, almost to the point of Bill forgetting about the snack he once treasured. But one day on his way to the flea market, he saw something that would forever change his life: the Hosebush Marshmallow Company was trying to create the world’s largest Marshmallow in the park he regularly jogged in. Bill immediately fell to his knees and starting bowing, claiming it as his new god.
The man who had made him sign the pact was there, however. He knew this was going to happen. “Listen to me, Bill. Don’t do anything you’ll regret, your career is on the line!” he begged. Bill grabbed the pact out of his hands and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed on it loudly and spit it back in the man’s face. The man started bawling into his hands and ran off, screaming “This is the end of Cosby as we know it!” “It’s MINE!” Bill shouted. He started pushing and elbowing people out of his way, growling with excitement.
He grabbed the side of the giant marshmallow and began clawing his way up. The people that had worked so hard making the marshmallow were running around, yelling at each other in frustration. Bill reached the top and ripped off his shirt. He slapped his belly a few times for good measure and dove down head first into the concoction. He started to tunnel his way down the center, using only his mouth and perfect set of choppers. “There go his canines,” thought the local dentist worriedly as he looked on.
In mere minutes, the entire marshmallow was devoured. Bill was so full, he couldn’t move. He was so big that when he rolled his eyes, it sounded like thunder. TV executives rushed in and handcuffed him, then hauled him off to be locked away in the NBC Fat Camp for two years.
During the years he spent trying to work off his fat, Bill was replaced on television by none other than Ray Romano, who covered himself with black ash to conceal his identity. If you look closely at footage from those years, you can faintly make out his Jewish chin. Ray also later played the role of Darlene on the series finale of “Roseanne.”
At last, in the spring of 1996, Bill was back and better than ever! Although the thought of another marshmallow binge was very tempting for him, he knew what it would do if it happened again. To this very day, every time Bill sees a bag of them, he grimaces in a way that makes him look sort of like a cross between GW Bush and Robert De Niro, with maybe a hint of Queen Elizabeth. This is a very ugly sight and Bill knows it, so he tries his best to stay away from the tempting morsels.
America loves Bill, and I’m sure you have your hand on your heart right now, saluting that he had the strength and willpower to fight his deadly addiction. I hope you have learned a lesson, and that you yourself do not become a “Marshmallow Cosby.”