I wrote this in July 1994. It's part of a series about Spot's problems with breakfast cereal.


James "Kibo" Parry

Spot was taking a shower when he remembered the doorbell might be ringing and he couldn't hear it. He hopped out of the shower stall and checked. There was nobody there, like the last twenty times he'd looked. He took another thirty seconds of his shower and checked again.

This time friendly Mr. Mailman was there! In his sparkling blue United States Postal Service uniform, Mr. Mailman smiled warmly as he held out Spot's very own Free Sample of BLAST-FROSTED YUMMY WONDER-O'S!

"Gosh, thanks!" yapped Spot, taking the tiny box and slamming the door in Mr. Mailman's face. Spot examined the package. FUN SIZE, it said. This meant that the cereal would taste extra-special, even better than the big size! It was made of little ring-shaped clusters of genuine Swiss milk chocolate and real ripe raspberries, embedded in giant sugar crystals. M-m-m! Each one of the little rings contained a tasty edible microprocessor which would warn you the moment the cereal went stale, to ensure that you were eating it at the peak of freshness! Spot ripped the box open and was about to dump the contents into his big mouth when he noticed:


Oh no! This meant that Spot couldn't eat them until he completed the breakfast! He added a glass of orange juice, and some buttered toast with grape jelly, and a pitcher of milk, and half a grapefruit, and tomato juice, and a bowl of Cheerios, and some Wheat Chex, and a Pop-Tart, and a steak, and some grated Parmesan...

He looked at the box again to see what else he was missing. Perhaps the nutritional information (required by law) would give him a clue. They said that the Blast-Frosted Yummy Wonder-O's contained at least two percent of his daily requirement of twenty essential vitamins and minerals! The box only listed essential vitamins and minerals, not essential oils, so Spot poured a gallon of Mazola over his Wonder-O's. (He always liked to drink some essential oil every day, because his doctor said he'd die otherwise. Spot considered essential oil to be rather important.)

Just then, the neighbor's cat strolled past the window, and Spot ducked behind the sofa where she wouldn't see him. This reminded him that the complete breakfast didn't yet have--yuk--cat food. He called his neighbor and borrowed a can of Science Diet Feline Maintenance, dumping the glop into the bowl of oil which held the Wonder-O's and the grated parmesan. Spot hated the idea of eating cat food, but it was worth it to get to eat the Blast-Frosted Yummy Wonder-O's!

After adding rutabagas, and garlic, and beef tongue, and kiwi gelato, and sushi, and a very rancid Necco SkyBar, and a rock, Spot was about to take his first bite of the complete breakfast when his eye fell on the morning paper. (He pushed it back into its socket before reading the headline.)



Spot yelped in surprise! He hadn't realized that a cloverleaf interchange was required for every complete breakfast, but he put one in anyway. And a player piano, and some Zima, and a mousetrap, and a hovercraft full of eels, and a dance belt.

After scouring the Isaac Walpole's "The Compleat Breakfast" and the Oxford English Dictionary for ideas, he threw them on the huge pile as well, and at long last Spot's breakfast was complete! He stirred it all together with his spoon and took a biiiiig biiiiite.

It was the rock. Spot broke most of his teeth as he chewed it up and swallowed it.

"Warning!" shouted all the microchips in the Wonder-O's, "Your breakfast is no longer complete! The Blast-Frosted Yummy Wonder-O's (a registered trademark of Advanced Synthetics Inc., supermarket to the Universe) will now self-destruct! STAND CLEAR!"

Spot cried as his breakfast exploded. Then the neighbor's cat came in and ate it.


Copyright © 1994 James "Kibo" Parry


James "Kibo" Parry
last revised Feb. 25, '98

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