Crunchy Nutty Super O's

“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.”

She adjusted her gleaming diamond earrings and turned to face me, her expression harried. “Dad failed to go down to the Giant; you’ll have to make do with dry cereal.”

“But, Mo-om…”

“Shush, Gerald. Your father is trying to sleep and I’m late for this wedding-”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“It’s really not such a big deal, hon!” she snapped, turning away.

“It is to me.”

I stomped off sulkily to the basement, pretending I was Frankenstein’s monster or something. They can’t take my breakfast from me… oh, no…


Next morning I awoke at quarter to eleven, stomach growling. I stalked over to the pantry. Dried pasta, dried rice, hot sauce, weird microwavable Indian food… bingo! Crunchy Nutty Super O’s!

Next stop, the ’fridge. I peered in. Yogurt, fat-free milk, fat-free lactose-free milk… where was the whole milk?

I remembered, shuddered.

I filled my bowl.

The cereal was far too crunchy and bland. Stupid Crunchy Nutty Super O’s.

Never liked you.

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