Snap! Crackle! Butt!
Did anyone else eat Smurfberry Crunch when they were a kid?
I made the mistake of asking for it, one time. I probably made a bit of a stink about it, honestly, as kids are wont to do. So, my step-monster begrudgingly got it for me. And… it was truly awful. Not just “turns your poo blue” awful, but “tastes like a hate crime” awful. But the rule was, if you requested it, you had to finish the whole box (frankly, there were plenty of things I didn’t request that I was also forced to finish, so that rule may not be 100% correct).
So, after a few weeks (I only suffered my step-monster on the weekends), I finally saw the bottom of that plastic-lined death box, and I thought I’d be done with them forever, lesson learned that cartoon-based cereals are just dressed-up devil balls that gloop up in milk and prey on the tender love of unknowing children.
But then, the next Saturday morning, I opened up the cabinet… There was a whole new box in there. And I knew it was meant for me.
It happened several more times, actually. I think they just stopped stocking the cereal at the store, because I doubt she would’ve ever stopped buying it otherwise, laughing inwardly at my suffrage as I attempted to choke that garbage down each week. Here and now, 30 years later in life, at least 25 since I’ve seen or heard from this woman, I still have nightmares that she’s going to pop up some day at random, boxes of this in hand to spoon-feed me.
Sufficed to say, I’d rather eat a bowl of Alien-O’s that Baujahr sat in (yes, it says “sat,” you can reread it if you need to) than ever go back to when I was ten and under the forced-feedings I once endured.
Although I’d rather have Grape Nuts.
