Cereal Killer

When I was a child I used to dread visiting my grandparents’ house. Part of this dread was because their house was filled with tacky souvenirs from Cuba and clowns made of seas shells and crocheted square dance creations and pictures from 1962. Part of this dread was because if we stayed more than 24 hours we’d end up leaving early in a huff because we couldn’t take it anymore and then we wouldn’t talk to them for two years. But the thing I dreaded most was what lurked inside their cereal cupboard.

My grandparents always made sure they had two types of cereal available. A box of Shreddies leftover from 1973 and a box of Rice Krispies that had always freshly been delved into. See, although most Grandmas bake delicious treats for their grandchildren and help them make gingerbread houses and serve ice cream for dinner, my grandmother somehow got the idea that Rice Krispie squares are the most delicious delicacy in the world. Despite my father’s pleas for homemade cheesecake and fudge (his favourites from his youth – also proof that my grandmother owns recipes) we would arrive and my grandmother would say in a sly manner “I have some treats I made for you!” as if we should dance with glee and twirl in a circle. In my younger years I would sometimes twirl as I would imagine a delicious land made of candy and joy. But then, alas, I would open the bread box on top of the fridge and inside would be a homely pan with some tinfoil plastered on top, emitting the sickly smell of marshmallow glue.

At first I enjoyed the Rice Krispies Treats, as my own mother did not usually make said desert because she actually loved me. But as the years passed, my enjoyment of Rice Krispies treats deteriorated almost as fast as my grandmother’s skill of making them. In the beginning, the Rice Krispie Squares were moist and delicious with the desired amount of viscosity and flavour. But as time passed my grandmother got lazy. She started skimping on the marshmallows and no longer insisted on using only the freshest cereal. Then she started making backup Rice Krispie square batches far in advance, so she would not have to rush about the day before her guest’s arrival. Her Rice Krispies got staler and staler. Then came the year of my Uncle’s wedding. All us children would be hanging out at my grandparents’ lair for a couple of days. This meant a higher quantity than ever of Rice Krispie Squares was needed. Clearly, moulding Rice Krispie Squares was not my grandmother’s priority, so she made the extra-large batch 10 weeks in advance to get it out of the way. So when the offer of a delicious desert treat was made to us children, we begrudgingly acted pleased and accepted the offer. Out came the pan and an old rusted butter knife and we were left to serve ourselves. When we plunged the knife into the snappy mass, the knife bent in half and the square remained intact. The Rice Krispie square had become a cement block. We had to use a makeshift chisel the burst the cement apart. Then we had to gnaw on these blocks, chipping our teeth and overworking our jaws. We felt obliged to eat the squares as we didn’t want to make my grandmother feel bad (especially since my grandfather had just ruined my uncle’s wedding) so we had to smash them off the kitchen table until they shattered and swallow the bits like jagged Krusty-os. We got through the first square, but then spent two days of my grandmother forcing us to continuously eat them (my grandmother believes that everyone should eat non-stop at all times). Then when it was time to leave she somehow cracked the block apart and sent little margarine containers full of Rice Krispie barf along with each of us.

But that is not why I dread the cereal cupboard, as the Rice Kripsie Squares are kept in the breadbox on top of the fridge as previously stated. I dread the cereal cupboard because I do not like Shreddies and I do not like Rice Krispies. And even though I don’t usually eat breakfast, as previously stated my grandmother believes that everyone should eat non-stop at all times. So one is FORCED to eat breakfast at my grandmother’s house even if they are not hungry. So because my mother knew that I was anti-Shreddie and anti-Rice Krispie, and I was usually a young child, my mother would invest in those 10-pack variety deals of the mini boxes of Kellogg’s cereals.

As a child I always found this to be exciting as these variety packs allowed me choice and the boxes were cute. But as I grew older I realized the inherent problems with the variety pack.

First of all, they have a bunch of cereals back to back so you can only see five when the package is on display. Of course they put the best ones at the front. So you see Frosted Flakes and Froot Loops and Corn Pops and Raisin Bran and think you’re getting a deal. But what you DON’T take note of is that in addition to these delicious brands you also get two boxes of Rice Krispies, Corn Flakes, Special K, and All Bran. The variety pack is just a SCAM to get parents addicted to the cereals their children refuse to eat! And you think you’re getting ten portions of deliciousness, but really half of the portions are despicable, and you could have saved money by just buying a singular box of the cereal of your choice.

So let’s say you don’t care about the scam and your parents happen to love All Bran, even though no person in their right mind would. There is still the issue of the actual eating process.

The entire point of the mini box is to avoid the unnecessary dirtying of a pristine bowl. So they perforate the box top so you can eat straight from the carton. First of all, they should probably avoid marketing something towards children that requires a big steak knife to saw open. I am sure many a child has been seriously injured when the knife slipped while sawing across Tony the Tiger’s face. Then when you open the flaps you find that you have sawed through all the cereal, ruining the loopiness of your Froot Loops and creating extra crumbs that made you shudder and dye the milk pink. And if you are a rather young child who is just mastering knife use, or perhaps even an overzealous Dad, there is a chance you would penetrate too deeply, nicking the white bag at the bottom. This leads to milk leakage and you stain your grandma’s placemat. Also, you have to use extra milk which is a waste of money, and transfer the remnants into a bowl which defeats the entire purpose. And the reason bowls are rounded is because it is much simpler to grasp milk and cereal in a circular motion. The mini boxes have corners that are difficult to dig in.

I just remembered a cereal that has ceased to exist. Remember Smacks? The ugly cereal with that beast frog mascot that talked like some barfing saxophone player? And the cereal pieces looked like dead crickets? I never tried that cereal because the commercials repulsed me. I wonder if they took it off the market because it was called “smacks” with has connotations of both drugs and violence. Or maybe it just tasted bad. Or maybe the frog got a promotion. It makes me sad when things go off the market. All the years spent on developing the recipe and designing the box and selling it to grocery stores and inserting toys and convincing children to beg their parents for it – all gone to waste. But I guess it’s their own fault for making a frog with a baseball cap on the mascot for an unappealing children’s cereal. Everyone knows reptiles don’t move product. A dolphin would have been a much wiser choice.