so there’s this guy, right? and he’s a plain cheerio. they live in a world where there are three kinds of cheerios; there are plain cheerios, the underclass. the worst of all of them. then honey nut cheerios. a middle class. they can live a comfortable life. and then finally, the cinnamon cheerios. they are the wealthiest of all cheerios. they live a good life; they are powerful and rich and happy. and most importantly, once a year, they vote on a plain cheerio to ritualistically feast on.
unfortunately, this year, it so happens that our cheerio’s number came up. he doesn’t want this to happen! he has a beautiful wife, and several kids. he has an okay job, and most importantly, he wants to live. so he goes to the cheerio bureau and asks what can be done about it. and they say, ‘well, there is one thing, but you might not like it…’. they explain to him that there is a notoriously difficult entrance exam, and any plain cheerio that makes it can be doused in honey nuts and become a honey nut cheerio and therefore be saved from the ritualistic eating. however, there are two caveats: the exam is ridiculously difficult, and to prevent just anyone from taking it, anyone who fails the exam will immediately be subject to death. the second is that plain cheerios are forbidden to fraternize with the upperclasses. he will have to leave his wife and children behind.
he thinks about it. he talks it over with his wife. the first part doesn’t bother him; he would die anyway if he fails the test. the second part, though, is a lot. he kisses his wife and promises her that if he passes this test, he’ll find a way to find her again. she tells him she loves him and escorts him to the test center.
(now, this part is very important, so pay attention) when he takes the test, he uses a green pencil, and he’s writing it on blue paper. green pencil; blue paper. the questions are hard. they’ve never tested him this hard in his life. he’s asked to remember obscure cheerio laws, nutritional calculations, seminal essays about cheeriodom. he’s nervous. he’s sweating. he doesn’t know if he can make it. but he looks down at his green pencil and he thinks of his wife. and that love pushes him through.
the blue paper is being put through the scantron now. he’s waiting, bated breath. and the results come back: a perfect score. he now qualifies to become a honey nut cheerio.
the dousing is easy; painless and almost comfortable, and suddenly, he has access to a whole world he’s never seen before. beautiful cheerio girls who never would have given him the time of day look at him. he can quit his shitty job and suddenly access dozens of better ones, with superior opportunities and pay. he’s invited to parties- real parties with punch and wine and snacks abound! it’s comfortable, and he settles into a routine fairly quickly. he never does learn what poor plain cheerio was chosen for the feasting in his place.
he thinks of his wife at times, of course; his children, too. but suddenly, her cheerio face is not as beautiful to him as it once was. and with the new wealth of honey nut women who he can meet, eventually, he starts to… forget. he meets another woman; a honey nut cheerio with a comfortable 9-to-5 middle class lifestyle. she’s pretty and active and kind to him, and soon, they fall in love. they can afford amenities he never could before; they get an okay house, and he is happy.
but proximity to power means proximity to a greener grass, and the more time he spends away from the plain cheerios, the closer he can see the lifestyles of the cinnamon cheerios. and it doesn’t even compare: cheerio yachts, constant parties, no need to work; they just live it up. the most expensive nights out, the most beautiful women, the biggest houses. it’s incredible.
and eventually, a nice, pleasant, average lifestyle pales in comparison. he is saved from the death of a plain cheerio, but what kind of life is mediocrity? he goes to the cheerio bureau again and asks if anything can be done. the cheerio tsks. sucks her teeth. thinks. and says, ‘i’m really not supposed to do this, but there is another test you can take. if you pass, you can become a cinnamon cheerio. but this one is higher-stakes than before. if you fail it, you will not only be killed, but your friends and family will as well? are you willing to take that risk?’. the honey nut cheerio thinks for half a second, and just like that; agrees.
the second test is even harder than before. he’s asked to solve complex calculations; to memorize the geography of the wheat fields from whence they came; to recite hundreds of pages of the cheerio code from memory. now, this time, instead of a green pencil on blue paper, he’s using a blue pencil on green paper. blue pencil; green paper. he looks down at the green paper, and he thinks of his girlfriend. he thinks of his life, and hers, and for just a split second, he thinks of his old wife. where is she now? and finally, he thinks of the life he could lead as a cinnamon cheerio. wealth, beauty, constant parties with no downsides. this is what he wants.
the scantron is reading his results. he waits. he ruminates. the green paper comes out. he’s passed.
he is doused in cinnamon. now, he is a god.
life as a cinnamon cheerio is just as perfect as he imagined it. he is happy. he is wealthy. he had to leave his last girlfriend and house behind, sure, but she is barely average compared to the cinnamon cheerio women, all of him are practically falling on themselves to be with him. he has a massive mansion, a cheerio yacht, a cheerio rolex; a fridge that dispenses milk on command. and even better, once a year, he gets to feed on a lowly plain cheerio. the idea that he was ever one of those things horrifies him now. can you imagine!?
now, he’s at a party, thrown by a wealthy and popular cinnamon cheerio, and the decorations today are a little peculiar. all the flowers are green, and all the grass is blue. why those colours? why today? a beautiful girl sits on the edge of a milk pool, tanning and resting. he gets up and talks to her. she looks so familiar, but he can’t put his finger on it. have they met?
they strike up a quick conversation, but it’s clear that she wants free drinks before they can engage any further. something about her has him so curious that he doesn’t mind at all. he goes over to the wine table, but there’s such a long line, and waiting would keep him from her. so he goes over to the juice table, but there’s a long juice line too. finally, he goes over to the punch table, and there’s no punch line.
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