Jun 30
You put the mascot on the lorries, and you blanket the farms with flyers, explaining that their old gods of the harvest - grinning scarecrows, leafy green-men and faceless corn-dolls - are now this guy. This sentient parcel of shredded wheat with the bulging eyes and the grinning toothed mouth that takes up most of his body, and he eats shredded wheat even though he is of course made of shredded wheat. I mean, it’s a nightmare.
But the funny thing is, it worked, for the most part.
Farmers spat when they said Sweet Jolly Crunchtooth’s name, but they still said it. And eventually, with the long years and decades, they stopped spitting.
The Silt Verses, Chapter III: Then I’ll Speak Of Champions
