I posted this at my old blog back in April of last year.
To understand my feelings about Grape-Nuts, it must be made known that boxes of cereal were not a part of my childhood. Every once in a while I’d hear my classmates discuss their morning meals, and the kids that belonged to more affluent families would sometimes brag about eating Kellogg’s Corn Flakes. Oh, the irony. At my house, breakfast was usually fruit, eggs, toast, juice, milk, and sometimes ham. Once I hit puberty a morning meal was out of the question, what with anorexia being the choice diet those days.
At one point I did get to try a bowl of corn flakes, and was shocked at the cardboard-like taste and quick-to-turn-to-mush lumps of corrugated food. What the hell was there to write home about eating such noxious vittles? I felt the same way when classmates brought candy corn to school (my brothers and I were not allowed to eat candy), and I thought it looked pretty and delicious, and the first (and last) time I tasted it, I wondered at the stupid taste buds of some people.
I think candy corn is gross. And I’m sorry if your taste buds are stupid. Don’t be angry with me, as you are not alone. My taste buds are stupid too when it comes to Cheetos and grape soda. Now that is manna from Me!
Anywho, one fine day I emigrated to the United States (sorry La Migra—it was all boringly legal) and the following morning I groggily made my way to the kitchen to have a bowl of breakfast.
My mom, the same woman that had ripped candy from my childhood and had fed me soy “meat” when it was virtually unknown, the same lady that lovingly dragged me out of her womb to expound upon the miraculous properties of molasses and vitamin A-laden carrots, grabbed a box of Grape-Nuts from the top of the fridge, and asked me if I wanted some.
I, despite an ignorance of the English language that would disappear weeks later, understood “grapes”, and “nuts”. I understood both items to be delicious. My positronic brain said, “S’all good, kitten. Have a bowl.”
After my first (and last) spoonful, I understood Grape-Nuts is neither.
It is the enemy.
With that in mind, I present my view of an apocalyptic world. It begins with an image titled Grape Nuts Dune #7, a hill of actual cereal bits, by Ernie Button.
Imagine a world that comes to an end while a woman is having breakfast. In her bowl of Grape-Nuts swims the man she loves, and don’t ask me why. Y’all are always picturing little men swimming in bowls of food like it’s going out of style, so don’t go blaming me. Your thoughts are virulently (vorelently?) contagious. So he’s splashing about in milk when the Big One is dropped, and the entire population of the world dies in a flaming ball of fire.
Everything is destroyed, except the Grape-Nuts. All that remains of this world is that mound of uneaten kernels, and the tiny body they protected from the pulverizing inferno like a wall of lead against radiation. Eventually the temperature comes down and the world begins to cool again, but it’s too late for our little guy. He starved to death a long time ago. He tried to chew a bit of that stuff that surrounded him, but it was too hard for his little teeth to break into pieces.
Is that what you want? Do you really want a planet empty of everything but a bunch of mounds of Grape-Nuts that the aliens that come by to check us out spot from space as they comment on our only legacy to their Space Federation? Frankly, I don’t want them to land and ask those stupid brown bits to take them to their leader mound. That would be embarrassing, especially after all that we have accomplished as a civilization, such as puffy and crunchy varieties of Cheetos.