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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
  • but stopped to be after dying

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