Dear Mister Jones

This morning I was blinded by Frosted Mini Spooners. For those of you who don’t know, Frosted Mini Spooners are the ‘economically superior’ alternative to Frosted Mini-Wheats. Hey, I’m not proud - I don’t have to consume name brand cereal to feel above my fellow man.

I poured my bowl like usual this morning, watching the frosting-coated squares tumble into the bowl. And, like every morning, I marveled at my good fortune at being able to eat a meal consisting of at least 30% sugar and call it breakfast and “start my day off right.” Frosted Mini Spooners come in a bag instead of a box, which I think is a great idea because it takes up less and less space as you use it. This time, before availing myself of the resealable feature of the bag, I decided I needed to get rid of some of the extra air it contained. While staring down at the bag I quickly smashed the excess air out of it. I saw the cloud of sugar-cereal-dust expel from the top of the bag and head straight for my eyes. I mustered all of the ninja-like reflexes that I could to shut my eyes tightly and turn away before it got to me - but I wasn’t quick enough. I reeled back from the insidious bag of crunchy goodness and weaved back and forth in the kitchen, trying to get my bearings while my eyes watered in pain. I was worried my wife or children were going to come in at any minute and witness their father in the throes of his battle with his breakfast. Luckily, with a lot of blinking and a wet paper towel, I was able to regain my vision and my composure before anyone became a witness to the scene.

I slowly poured my milk and quietly returned the Frosted Mini Spooners to their shelf. As I munched on my sweet nemesis, I tried to come up with some witty kernel of wisdom that would reflect the lesson to be learned from my experience. Sadly, the best I could come up with was “When your cereal is half empty, close your eyes before you close the bag.”