I looked at my box of Grape-nuts. They didn't

I looked at my box of Grape-nuts. They didn't have any grapes or nuts in it. It didn't even have a mascot like Cookie Crisp. No prize inside either. Disappointed.

But upon closer inspection, I found a tiny envelope stuck inside the box. A little message read "Help, I'm being held hostage by Alfred Von Grappe-Nütte, psycho cereal killer

extraordinaire. Sick bastard, this was how he got his Kix by playing these gruesome Trix. First I needed to crunch on some cinnamon toast to gather my thoughts. This killer

required preparation time. As I finished my toast I suddenly had an idea. It involved three paperclips, two strands of string, a jellyfish and a cross-eyed goat. The killer would d

- d - d - distill ethanol!" cried the stammering child. His plan was, thusfar, to take the paperclips (but not their computer advice!) and

jam them past his nasal septum and pick-lock his nose. Then, the child figured, he would have an open nose, and be able to access his full brain potential!

Ten years later found him living in a closet with an IV drip. Wires ran from his nose (wireless tech came a bit too late) into an impressive set-up. He was a digital cowboy.

Riding a mechanized horse with no name, he trampled the ideals of mankind with the blink of his eye. Entire civilizations crumbled when he sneezed. Men's minds melted into pools of

burbling gibbering contradictions and stupidity. Okay he didn't affect mens minds that much, but his anonymized mechanized horse trampled quite a few Liliputians. He was harbringer