Assistant Head Coach

Posted: February 23, 2015 in Uncategorized

At the bottom of the cereal box, long buried by a shipwreck or the gloved hand of a factory worker and then perhaps by a robot that dropped lots of small corn-based sand on top of the color changing spoon. Now it lies in wait. Some children see the journey, the archaeology of it to be the thrill, to eat their way down. Others prefer the cereal experience to sharply decline after excavating the coveted treasure. From there it is simply a grinding of teeth over wheaty pieces that smell oddly like a woman’s pillow, though this is a fact that will remain veiled for at least the better part of a decade longer. For now, there is simply the wind-up car, the aforementioned spoon, perhaps a piece of plastic shaped like a beloved character. Worst case scenario, one will have to eat a few boxes, cutting off the rectangles, sending them into the mail, and waiting so long that one forgets there is even a prize coming. Then it does come, and much like Calvin’s helicopter beanie, serves mostly to disappoint.

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