OK, fine.

McSweeney’s hasn’t published me. Yet.
Here are some things they’ve rejected.

Scooby Doo Opens Up About His "Reating Risorder"

For decades, Scooby Doo has brought laughter to families around the world. His love of spelunking and snacking made him a household name. But what started as comedic gluttony turned into lifelong health issues for the four-legged star.

“Ry rame ris Rooby Rooby Roo, rand ri ruffered rom rulimia,” says Scooby, now in his 50s. 

It all started the first week of shooting, when a studio exec floated the idea that Scooby would do anything—even put himself in danger—for a Scooby Snack. As an eager young actor, Scooby embraced the character, claiming he would do “ratever rit rakes ro rake rit rin Rollywood.”

The show was a smash. But much like old Scooby Snacks, the gorging gag got stale. Scooby found himself having to eat more and more to keep the audience laughing. And the more he ate, the more his collar size grew.

“Ri rated ro ri raw rin ra rirror,” Scooby tells us about his rapid weight gain. “Ri ras relf roncious rand rashamed.”

Bloated and struggling to keep up on set, the studio gave him an ultimatum: Slim down or be replaced. But when even the most intense workouts couldn’t offset 500 Scooby Snacks a day, Scooby took matters into his own paws. 

“On camera, Scoob would eat, like, twenty-layer sandwiches til his stomach was stretched out like a Hefty bag full of coat hangers,” says Shaggy, Scooby’s longtime co-star. “And when the director called cut, he would disappear and just, like, barf it all up!”

When asked if the other cast members knew what was going on, Shaggy sang like a slim, stoned canary: “We all knew, but the gang just, like, ignored it. They wouldn’t do anything that would, like, totally zoink their paychecks."

We reached out to Fred, Daphne, and Velma, but they declined to comment. 

When the show went off the air, Scooby couldn’t stop the cycle of binging and purging. He claims that he would “rip rat rails rof rocaine” to suppress his appetite. When he inevitably overdosed, his old pal Shaggy intervened. 

Shaggy checked Scooby into a clinic to confront his demons. He came out a changed hound—a good boy with portion control and a clean nose. After a few months of diet and exercise, he received experimental laparoscopic surgery to repair his ballooned belly. 

But recovery is a journey. Scooby relapsed at the Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest in 1988 and was arrested for DUI in 2012. Today, he is officially 10 years sober for the third time. 

Scooby is now a life coach, sharing his story through what he calls “Red Ralks.” His tell-all book, Ruh Roh: Ry Rattle Rith Rulimia hits shelves everywhere this February.

I can’t hurt you, I’m just a tiny weed gummy. (JK, I'm Gonna Fuck Up Your Whole Day)

Now, I know you’re not much of a smoker, but you’ve got nothing to worry about, because I taste like a Sour Patch Kid! 
(JK, I’m gonna rock your fucking world and make your mouth dryer than a popcorn fart.)

No, I’m not gonna be too strong for you. How could I be? I’m just a teensy weensy green bear. 
(JK, I’m one cubic inch of pure THC. You’ll be Googling shit like “are beavers in cahoots with logging companies” in no time.) 

You only have one Zoom meeting today? That’s perfect! Just eat me like half an hour before and you won’t even notice the buzz until after.  
(JK, I’m gonna kick in right when the meeting starts. You’ll forget everything you prepared and your eyes will be redder than a baboon’s ass. Everyone’s gonna know you’re high!)

With the pandemic and everything, I’m sure you’ve been feeling some anxiety. Don’t fret, my pet! I’ll take your mind to a blissful place where the vibes are right and daytime TV is actually funny.
(JK, I’m just gonna crank that feeling of impending doom up to 11 and remind you that everyone you love is gonna die someday. Maybe today!)

You know how soft your dog is? Imagine how soft he’s gonna be when you’re on weed!
 (JK, you’re gonna convince yourself he hates you because you did drugs in front of him.)

I’ve heard you have trouble sleeping at night. Just relax, I’ll give you a calming body high and put your mind at ease as you drift off to dreamland. 
(JK, I’m gonna make your whole body vibrate harder than a coin-operated hotel bed while you try to remember how to breathe and mistake your racing heartbeat for a robber’s footsteps.)

In the morning, you’ll feel refreshed and inspired. With your creative juices flowing, you’ll be ready to tackle whatever comes your way. 
(JK, you’ll wake up still high, eat four bowls of cereal, and willfully accept the fact that you're gonna feel this way forever.)

Alright, down the hatch! Let’s have some fun!
(JK, prepare for liftoff, bitch.)

I’ve fallen and I refuse to get up!

Hello, Life Alert? I tripped over the rug and smacked my head on the floor. 

No, I don’t want you to send help, because I will not be getting up. 

Yes, I’m seeing stars. But I’ve never seen things more clearly. This is a wake up call for me to give up standing up. 

A lifetime of living upright has caused me nothing but pain. I’ve stood at thankless jobs, only to go home with a measly pay and chronic lumbago. My last girlfriend left me for a man who doesn’t have to stand on his tippy toes in pictures. Hell, this whole COVID pandemic started while I was standing in line at the grocery store.

So when my gams gave out and my skull bounced off the linoleum, I decided enough is enough.

What’s that? Yes, I’m bleeding from the ear. I’ll be honest though, I’ve never felt more relieved. 

I’m tired of fighting this perpetual war against gravity. The days of centering my torso over these hairy bendy straws are over. No longer will children point at me on the street and shout “Hey, there’s ol’ two legs! Look at that standing fool!” Never again will I sacrifice my comfort for a paltry 5’9” view of the world. 

Huh? I’m slurring? Please, don’t interrupt me. 

I’m a floor man now and I’m proud of it. The crumbs of meals past will make for wonderful morsels of nourishment. I plan to weave a mattress out of the dust bunnies under the furniture. And if I get lonely, I can chat with the ants that have taken an interest in the brain juices pooling around my head. 

This is my official stand against standing. And if you don’t like it, you can kiss my horizontal ass. 

Hello? Life Alert? So much for customer service.