I think they are on to me again.

It's funny, the circumstances one finds himself thrust into without warning. One moment you are a happy- go-lucky slob wandering aimlessly through life, just trying to get from point A to point B and not make waves, and the next minute you are on the run, pursued by the hidden authorities that hide in the shadows and secretly run the show, barely enough time to type out a decent run-on sentence.

Hunted.

No, it isn't the Government. These are the people the Government FEAR.

The Cereal Police.

Call them what you want, there are many street nicknames for these shifty folks who operate with stealth and cunning. Cereal Police. Flake Fuzz. The Men from C*R*U*N*C*H. They are everywhere. Trust no one.

I started out the same as every other hapless screwhead who wakes up one seemingly "normal" morning, only to fall ass-backward into danger and intrigue and find themselves on the run and sleeping in a dumpster by midnight.

It all started with a big bowl of cereal..........

I've always been a pushover for the "kid's" cereals, and that was what got me into trouble. Kids are innocent and they don't notice the things that I notice, and adults are so caught up in being adults that they don't notice what lurks around the fringes of perceived normality. There are advantages to being an overgrown child........ or so I thought.

So anyway, the kid's cereals. I started my day with a big bowl of Fruity Pebbles. As I sat there at the breakfast table, my hair matted and a crust still in my eyes, maybe a little drop of milk running down my chin as I munched mindlessly, reading the important matters on the back of the box, it dawned on me that there were sinister, underlying patterns in the cereal industry. First off, the obvious part, that cartoon characters are used sell products to kids. Ok, so everybody knows that part, and ALL companies are guilty of it, from the giants like the Franco American Corporation to upstarts like Phillip Morris. But it's the messages these characters are pushing that started to get me worried......

Pebbles cereal. Fred has *all* the Pebbles, and he flat out refuses to allow Barney to have *any*. No sharing. No splitting. No compromise. Why? Is there some great shortage of Pebbles in the world? Is there some unwritten code that you must be the taller, darker-haired member of a uni-browed, cave- dwelling comedy duo in order to reach the old stone cereal cupboard? WHY is Fred so stingy with his cereal? Will the universe suddenly snap, crackle, and pop out of existence should Barney sit down and pour himself a big, crunchy bowl of these tasty little deals?

The answer was so simple. The cereal marketers have devised a cunning way to plant it early in a child's mind to be PROTECTIVE of their STUFF. Sure there are plenty of Pebbles for all. Hell, they make them every day. But........ GO GET YOUR OWN! THESE ARE MINE! And so, when these children go off on their own paths through life, they have learned to be hoarding, greedy, and shifty-eyed, and that means good business. Many of them even go on to become lawyers. If people don't share, then everyone must buy. And yes, the cereal manufacturers are who *really* took down Napster, so don't even go there.

Still not convinced? The cute antics of Fred and Barney not enough to sway you to my way of thinking? Not a problem. Lets look closer.........

Trix cereal. You know it, you love it (well, I do anyway). Crunchy little artificial fruit flavored asteroids of fun that rip the roof of your mouth apart like a rabid woodchuck inside a paper bag. What is the message here? Much like Fred and his Pebbles, the kids have *all* the Trix. Enter the rabbit. The poor, skinny, starving rabbit.... can HE have some Trix? Nope. Sorry rabbit, Trix are for kids! In other words, starve you tick-ridden rodent, sit right there and die of hunger as you watch us lap up the orange colored milk in the bottom of the bowl. Sucks to be you, eh Mr. Rabbit? Crunch, crunch, crunch.............

It was at this point that I should have started running, but I was a fool. I was so cocky, so sure of myself for uncovering this plot, that I forgot to look over my shoulder. At this point they were already onto me, and I should have been more careful as I made my way from the breakfast table to the cereal aisle to solidify what was only, at that point in the game, a tightening feeling in my gut (it could also have been that fourth bowl of Trix talking to me).

What I saw there absolutely horrified me.

It was worse than I thought. It was everywhere. Cookie Crisp had your stereotypical masked thugs trying to get their hands on the cereal that seems so important to everyone else to protect at any cost. The cereal was so important that people were resulting to larceny to get their grubby paws on just one bowl! Lucky Charms, with it's playful "always after me Lucky Charms" quip. What does Lucky Charms really promote? It says HIDE your cereal. RUN with your cereal and HIDE it, HOARD it, even if you have to go to the end of the rainbow to do it, for there are people in this world that will take it from you!!! Much like TV's "The Fugitive", the leprechaun could never relax, never stop running, for they are "always after me Lucky Charms".

Molding young minds into potential mega-consumers. I knew right then and there that it was bigger than I had ever suspected and that someone had to stop them, and that someone was me, dammit.

It was right about then that they fell on me with their truncheons.

I managed to hurt the weakest and slowest of their numbers. It was obvious he hadn't eaten his Wheaties that morning so I managed to get him in a choke hold and threatened him with a box of Shredded Wheat, the most vile substance known to man. The rest of his gang of thugs held back, and we had ourselves a nice little stand-off. They knew that if they so much as flinched, so much as *blinked*, that I'd have the freshness seal on that baby open, and they would lose one of their own. I backed away with my hostage, and finally pushing him up against an end display of Raisin Bran, fled from the store, my life forever changed.

The old 70's song "Run, Joey Run" went through my head, which certainly didn't help.

As I ran, stumbling through traffic and raving like a lunatic, images from my own childhood raced through my brain. Quisp and Quake. Two cereals that could not share the same shelf, so the makers decided to let the kids "vote" on the fate of these two cereals. Much like Mad Max's "Thunderdome", the stakes were high and the carnage would be horrible. "Two cereals enter.... one cereal leaves......". In the end it was Quisp that had emerged victorious, and Quake had disappeared off the face of the Earth. I can only imagine what they did to that poor bastard, but he was never seen again. If you don't remember Quake (and you should. This stuff is important), he was a big, brawny guy. But I'll bet he squealed like a pig and weeped for his mother before the Cereal Police were done with him.

Then there were other, lesser known cereals. There was the rarely remembered "Baron Von Redberry" and "Sir Grapefellow" cereals. Redberry, a German World War One flying ace with his raspberry flavored cereal, vs Grapefellow, a British flying ace promoting his crunchy rings of grapey goodness. Much like Quisp and Quake, the two could not find harmony on the same cereal shelf. So each and every saturday morning when Scooby Doo or the Jetsons would break to a commercial, they would try to obliterate each other from the skies. In the end, they were both destroyed. Consumed by their burning hatred for each other's particular flavor.

Yet amidst all these evil messages that were drilled into our heads much like the sugar in the cereal was drilling into our teeth, a warrior of good arose and dared to promote decency and honor amongst the vile and horrible marketers of seemingly innocent kid's cereals. One man who dared to be different, who dared to stand up for what he believed in.

But does anyone remember Mr. T cereal? So very few of us... so very, very few. As big and as noble as our Mr. T was, he was but a mere plaything in the clutches of the Cereal Police, and they took him down with extreme prejudice.

Today, he is penniless.

But I have already said too much and stayed here too long, and much like the leprechaun, I must run. Already I sense that they have tapped into this terminal and as I type out my ravings they are making their way towards me at top speed. I must go back into hiding, living again on the scraps and cereal "dust" left behind in the bottom of the boxes thrown out by the rich kids who sacrifice a few flakes or rings for not wanting to eat the dusty remains in the bottom. I do not know if I will survive to see tomorrow, but the next time you pour your bowl of Captain Crunch (Bastard! I KNOW what you did to Smedley the Elephant!), or dive into a sweet helping of Honeycombs (the "Honeycomb Hideout"? Just an surveillance outpost for the vile Flake Fuzz), remember the poor guy who learned too much. Remember the guy who spooned in more than he could chew.

Just keep eating, and remember me.

Remember.

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