I'M SERIAL ABOUT CEREAL

I wake up long after midnight not quite awake nor sound asleep but in that twilight zone of grunt and groan as the sun is turning on its burning gear and gearing up to meet and greet another dawn.

Weary and bleary eyed, yawn after yawn, I turn on the kitchen light in search of my first bite to trigger my bowels and halt the sound of growls in my round belly. I don't want to watch the telly or read the news, I choose what will turn me on as one by one all the stars are gone, to where, I don't care.

With a fiendish gleam in my eye I become a serious cereal eater and a serious serial cereal reader. As the cornflakes turn to mush in my mouth I intensely read the contents on the box. (You won't find exciting writing like this on a pound of lox or a box of sox.) Or I scan the prose how hockey pros prefer the oaty o's in Cheereos. (Everybody knows, they'd just as soon promote strawberry jam or even Spam if the price was right. But who thinks like this in the still of night?)

When I'm through reading this, how could I miss the recipe that you use easily to bake a cake with rolled oats sold as food for billy goats?

In big type green and red they spread the news of what's inside to keep your body nutrified and certified as good for you, you know they lied. (Then find the small print on the total ingredients, designed to strike you blind.}

Most amusing are the games to play, created for kids but that's OK. Or try the things that you can buy with bucks and box tops. All and all, reading the reading materiel on the cereal box is quite crude and may not put you in a mood for food but it will feed your need until the coffee's brewed.