sorry i suck at updating this blog but…

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…hey! two posts in a row! this is for Douvonte and Kacie. I wrote this for a creative writing class I took during my soph year at UMD. Hopefully this will give you something to laugh about in the distant future at the circ desk. It isn’t a song and dance about faded barcodes and non-existent atm machines but I hope it will suffice for a blog update =)

Monkey Trouble
4/26/05

My full name is Salvador Joseph Aviani; I consider myself an ambassador of all things chocolate, especially breakfast food. In fact, I have the almighty cocoa bean to thank for being the main ingredient behind the biggest paid endorsement I have ever had. The commercials alone are huge money guzzlers. We have to do it up big if we’re going to get your little one’s attention. So to debunk any myths, yes I am actually surfing on a tidal wave of chocolate that covers anything it touches in a sweet sheet of brown. Yes, it required a great deal of melted chocolate to pull it off…and yes, someone on the set did drown in it, but that’s not the point. The whole point of this tale is that a certain hairy individual aimed to take all this glory away from me and intended to escape with impunity. Just because they all call me Sonny the Cocoa Bird doesn’t mean I’m always full of sunshine.

Coco the Monkey had been trying to steal my thunder for years. Frankly, the product he was trying to push just was not bringing in the cash. No one eats Cocoa Krispies anymore. No one even eats regular Rice Krispies. His product was on its way out, so I guess he felt he had to do something really drastic to exercise some control. And he had the balls to do it on the granddaddy of all events in the cereal world

The 63rd National Convention of Cereal Mascots was the backdrop of my enemy’s beat down. It was not all violence and intimidation from the start; at first the engagement was a beautiful affair. As the crowd held their bowls in the air to make a toast, I saw him and for a moment in time, our eyes locked onto each other’s before emcee Cap’n Crunch’s booming voice broke the tension.

“Good evening to you, fellow mascots,” said Cap’n. “Before we continue with tonight’s events I would like to inform you all that both the Trix Rabbit and Cookie Crisp Dog will not be in attendance this evening, so you are free to consume as much Trix cereal and Cookie Crisp as you would like without any fear of harassment. Thank you and see you in an hour to finish tonight’s festivities.”

After a few hours of friendly banter with Count Chocula and consuming ten bowls of Lucky Charms, it came time for the most boring part of the convention: council elections. For those that do not know, there are different cereal councils created according to type. For example, I think the Bran Council is headed by that beam of sunshine holding two scoops of raisins on the Raisin Bran box.

I’m a member of the Sweetened Sugar Cereal Council, which is the only one with subcommittees: Marshmallow and Chocolate. I had held the position of Chocolate Subcommittee president for eight years and I was still going strong. I was so successful during my tenure that many wondered why I didn’t just run for president of the Sweetened Sugar Council. Um, hell no, but thanks for your suggestion. I think Mr. Wendell and his Cinnamon Toast Crunch are doing a damn good job in that department. Because I didn’t cross into Wendell’s territory, I didn’t expect anyone to cross mine. So you can see how I got pissed when monkey boy attempted to move in on it.

A short time after it was established in a unanimous crowd vote Mr. Wendell would be winner of his position yet again, it came time for candidates running for president of the Chocolate Subcommittee to present their speeches. Mine, brilliant as usual, made the crowd leap to their feet in jubilation over my suggestion to add even more chocolate per puff. Upon leaving the stage, Coco made his way up the stairs behind the podium, giving me evil glares like I stole the answer he was going to say in class before he could say it.

“Fellow cerealbrities, I come to you to ask for your vote in this upcoming election because I feel the world of chocolate flavored cereals has been in a tailspin ever since the election of my eventual predecessor. We know how good chocolate flavored cereals can be, but there can be so much more…”

I’ll be honest with you, I kind of zoned out after the first 30 seconds of his speech. My mind has a tendency to wander whenever it’s in the presence of extreme bullshitting. However, I was able to snap out of my trance early enough to witness that stupid ape flaunting a picture of me eating Cocoa Krispies in the buff. So not only does he show everyone this photo (which was clearly photoshopped), but then he starts spouting crap about how if I couldn’t even be faithful to my own brand of cereal, then how can I exercise loyalty to the council to make the best decisions for it.

And they bought it. They all lapped it up like it was leftover milk from a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. They heard, they voted, they booted me out…although I was not completely out of the loop. Council guidelines state that in the event something happens to the newly elected president, the previous president takes that one’s place. There’s really nothing, barring death, that could’ve gotten things back to the way they were.

About two hours later, I was sulking around the alley behind the convention center, wallowing in my first loss in ages. I wanted to get back at him, but I was too upset and felt my opportunity to do harm had slipped away. Suddenly, I saw him walking out of the back door, and he stopped dead in his tracks to stare me down. A devilish chuckle came from pink lips.

So I got heated and when my blood was at a perfect boil, I lunged at him with a feathery fist and missed his face by an inch. Simultaneously, he smashed my lower beak with five knuckles of fury and I fell against the brick wall. I shot back up, temporarily blinded from the shock of the blow, and swung blindly at something in front of me. When my eyes finally focused, I saw Coco sprawled on the city floor with a massive, bleeding head wound, and overcame the pain in my jaw enough to say:

“You got what you deserved, you little prick.”

He didn’t get up, but I didn’t stick around long enough to see if he had. But then again, when is the last time you saw a commercial for Cocoa Krispies?

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