Bartleby slowly pushed the contorted faces of his Screa-YUMS! around in the bowl. It was a gesture that had been repeated often as he sat there staring blankly, waiting for a nebulous something that never came.
Eddies and currents created by the motion of his spoon caused the the thin flakes to bob and whirl in the dark milk. Between the bas-relief of horrific expressions on the face of the cereal and the darkness that they floated in, the whole scene looked like a major naval disaster with dozens captured in their last moments as they drowned. He pushed his spoon through the milk again, dividing them into two groups. They reformed into one mass almost immediately, except for one flake that spun away, floating by itself; all alone. Bartleby supposed that his role in this scenario was that of a toothy sea monster, there to gobble up the survivors.
The Screa-YUMS! box demanded that he taste the delicious agony, but he found that he could not bring another spoonful of the overly sweet cereal to his mouth.