one for John John

So I finally had the Cap'n'Crunch at Grill tonight. I'd heard about this phenom before: It's supposedly the biggest bowl of Cap'n'Crunch imaginable. If you haven't had it, go ahead and imagine the biggest bowl of Cap'n'Crunch you can. It was almost that big.

I was served a pasta bowl (you know, the kind that has the broad brim and the wide, wide bowl) piled high with crunchy golden nuggets and a tall glass of milk. It looked like they'd poured out an entire box of Cap'n'Crunch onto my plate. I opted to only pour a bit of the milk in at first, and dug down deep to get the drenched quickly mushy bits below. After ferreting out most of these, I added a bit more milk and proceeded in a similar fashion through most of the rest of the bowl.

However, as I neared the end I lost my concentration (hard not to, reading lines with such a talented and beautiful actress right across from me) and dumped the rest of the milk in with the rest of the cereal. Shortly thereafter I realized I was way past full and needed to quit spooning delicious mouthfuls of crispy golden treasure into my slavering maw. You'll please appreciate the courage needed to do this. To leave any Cap'n'Crunch in the cereal bowl and declare oneself finished is a hard-fought and ignobly won battle in a man's life. However I did stop shoveling, and at that point I was left with a small mound of near-chemically pure sugar quickly dissolving into a grainy mush six shades of yellow off white.

This concoction had all of the makings of a superb sculpting material, but it ran a bit thin. The realization dawned on me as I palsied through another five pages of sex montage that I shouldn't have used all of the milk made available to me. In an attempt to shore up my potential material I mashed up any remaining crunchiness with my spoon. I had hope that once the undissolved bits dissolved I'd have a better medium to work with. Though soon enough, as we tore through the last few pages of the surreal script, I was forced to accept that I would not be able to reduce my paste to the desired viscosity before we must up and leave.

Woe! On my night, the one where I asked her and she said yes and then she asked me and I of course said yes, where we got to walk and talk and eat and talk and drive and sing and read and act, I couldn't finish the Cap'n'Crunch. I left a big tip, a full ashtray, and what could have been the greatest ever work of Cap'n'Crunch art (in so many different ways) uncompleted on that damned table, and then I made her take me home.


Currently Listening:
Greasy Heart
By The Thin Man