Corn Flakes

Corn flakes. All I’ve had is corn flakes for the past week. My boogers are starting to look like corn flakes. Unfortunately, all I can afford is those 99 cent boxes at the corner market. So basically, I’m living off a dollar or two a day.

If I didn’t owe my dealer money, this wouldn’t be a problem. My mistake. At least food goes into someplace useful like your stomach. Pot just floats into the air. Not doing me much good up there, is it?

So, now it’s just me and corn flakes. We’ve become very intimate, corn flakes and I. You eat something for a week straight, you start noticing things. Like how there always seems to be one shriveled burnt one in every other box. Like clockwork. And how they always seem to land curled side up when they fall out onto the table. Corn flakes don’t make good hats, but they do make good thickener when they’re all crushed up. Change the ratio of milk and flakes and you’ve got yourself a corn flake shake! Yum.

I’ve sampled every corn flake there is. Some use sugar as a sweetener, some high fructose corn syrup, and some use both (my favorite is the “and/or” label). I’ve memorized the nutrition facts in both English and Spanish.

Ah, yes. When corn flakes decide to take over the world, I’ll be ready. But for now, I think my skin is turning yellow. Is that normal?


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Filed under Flash Fiction, Session XXII

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