Briefly...Before I hit the Hay...
Briefly...Before I hit the Hay...
When I was quite a bit younger, somewhere in the four to five-year-old range...I was sure that Count Chocula lived in the main bathroom of our house. Now, this isn't an attempt at making some kind of shit joke, where I go in and make a new batch of Count Chocula twice a day, especially after enjoying a hot beverage in the morning...
I was sure that Count Chocula, the vampire deemed benevolent enough to grace the box of the breakfast cereal, was a.) hiding a very real, very nasty malevolence behind his sweet, cocoa facade, and b.) used the main bathroom of the house I grew up in as a lair of sorts...at the very least, as a cranny to perch himself while he waited for a young Tommy to pass by.
If I was not vigilant in my passings to and fro past the bathroom, I'm fairly sure I'd have been snatched up and taken to who knows where. I'd imagine it'd be whatever awful place that pointy headed, Nosferatu knockoff came from. To do what? Dunno. Perhaps do the bidding of that demon, wiping where pointy fingers should not wipe....or perhaps be little more than a breakfast character's breakfast.
There is a circle of life going on there, don't get me wrong. I think I recognized that even at the tender age of five...I eat the breakfast character's cereal, the breakfast character eats me. I didn't think it mattered much that Mom didn't let us by sugar-y cereals (except for Apple Jacks...which I don't understand the logic behind, but again, neither here nor there). And I honestly don't think I'd eaten a spoonful of Count Chocula cereal to that day, nor have I since.
Now Boo-Berry? Don't get me started on that...possibly the best cereal ever devised....
But I digress.
I've established that I though Count Chocula lived in the toilet, and that I would scurry past that bathroom at any passing. Avoiding it as much as possible. There was a second commode I could do my business in, and being a kid, I avoided baths as a matter of course. I think it's Kid Law.
Anyway, I've spent the last week house-sitting for my folks, taking care of their animals while Mom and Dad wandered to the Coast for a respite from their workaday worlds.
They have a gray cat. Very nice cat, very pretty cat.
Who scurries past doors much the same way I imagine I did, back in the day. Doesn't matter who's letting her in or out, or which door. She scurries past, like she's afraid I'm going to snatch her up and take her down to Tommy Cereal Hell.
If there were a Tommy Cereal Hell, I think it would be nothing but Banana Nut Crunch, and possibly grits. Are grits a cereal? I tend to think so. I think my Southern By Grace of God card might get revoked if I said aloud these words: "Grits are for other people. Not me. I care what the food I put in my mouth feels and tastes like."
Anyway. Gonna sign off, and turn in for the night. No point to this post. There were words in my head, and I had to get them out. I don't think it really mattered what the words said, or even what order they came out. Just had to get them out before they stampeded out of my nose, ears, or some other unmentionable orifice, like my asshole.
When I was quite a bit younger, somewhere in the four to five-year-old range...I was sure that Count Chocula lived in the main bathroom of our house. Now, this isn't an attempt at making some kind of shit joke, where I go in and make a new batch of Count Chocula twice a day, especially after enjoying a hot beverage in the morning...
I was sure that Count Chocula, the vampire deemed benevolent enough to grace the box of the breakfast cereal, was a.) hiding a very real, very nasty malevolence behind his sweet, cocoa facade, and b.) used the main bathroom of the house I grew up in as a lair of sorts...at the very least, as a cranny to perch himself while he waited for a young Tommy to pass by.
If I was not vigilant in my passings to and fro past the bathroom, I'm fairly sure I'd have been snatched up and taken to who knows where. I'd imagine it'd be whatever awful place that pointy headed, Nosferatu knockoff came from. To do what? Dunno. Perhaps do the bidding of that demon, wiping where pointy fingers should not wipe....or perhaps be little more than a breakfast character's breakfast.
There is a circle of life going on there, don't get me wrong. I think I recognized that even at the tender age of five...I eat the breakfast character's cereal, the breakfast character eats me. I didn't think it mattered much that Mom didn't let us by sugar-y cereals (except for Apple Jacks...which I don't understand the logic behind, but again, neither here nor there). And I honestly don't think I'd eaten a spoonful of Count Chocula cereal to that day, nor have I since.
Now Boo-Berry? Don't get me started on that...possibly the best cereal ever devised....
But I digress.
I've established that I though Count Chocula lived in the toilet, and that I would scurry past that bathroom at any passing. Avoiding it as much as possible. There was a second commode I could do my business in, and being a kid, I avoided baths as a matter of course. I think it's Kid Law.
Anyway, I've spent the last week house-sitting for my folks, taking care of their animals while Mom and Dad wandered to the Coast for a respite from their workaday worlds.
They have a gray cat. Very nice cat, very pretty cat.
Who scurries past doors much the same way I imagine I did, back in the day. Doesn't matter who's letting her in or out, or which door. She scurries past, like she's afraid I'm going to snatch her up and take her down to Tommy Cereal Hell.
If there were a Tommy Cereal Hell, I think it would be nothing but Banana Nut Crunch, and possibly grits. Are grits a cereal? I tend to think so. I think my Southern By Grace of God card might get revoked if I said aloud these words: "Grits are for other people. Not me. I care what the food I put in my mouth feels and tastes like."
Anyway. Gonna sign off, and turn in for the night. No point to this post. There were words in my head, and I had to get them out. I don't think it really mattered what the words said, or even what order they came out. Just had to get them out before they stampeded out of my nose, ears, or some other unmentionable orifice, like my asshole.
posted by Tommy at
21:49
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