The Final Crunch
Cereal Fiction
Welcome to my little corner of the internet! I’m so glad you’re here. Below you’ll find a short story about, well, you’ll see. It’s better to experience it yourself I think.
I’m sorry, or you’re welcome.
Want to see more of my fiction? I’ve got you covered:
Captain Crunch held the glass of whiskey in front of him, studying how the waning sun’s rays reflected off the amber liquid. A soft knock on the office door pulled him out of his reverie. He placed his bicorne back on his head. “Come in,” he said.
A tall, thin man entered, his red hair a stark contrast against his pasty white features and yellow uniform. He held several sheets of paper in his hand, and paused in front of the Captain’s desk. “A bit early for the hard stuff, isn’t it sir?”
“Helps calm my nerves,” the Captain replied. “I assume you have news for me, Sergeant Snap?”
“Nothing good, I’m afraid.” He started reading from his sheet. “Toucan Sam is dead. The Trix Rabbit hasn’t been seen or heard from in 36 hours.” He hesitated. “And…” he shuffled some the papers.
“Spit it out, son,” encouraged the Captain.
“Count Chocula is on the move again. His castle was seen hovering on the outskirts of Chicago.”
“My God…” the Captain closed his eyes. “I was supposed to be retired,” he said, to himself more than to his companion. “Sitting on a beach, sipping mai-tai’s with a sweet Senorita…”
Sergeant Snap cleared his throat. “Sir, don’t you think it’s time to call in…”
The Captain’s eyes flared open. “Don’t say his name!” he yelled, slamming his glass down on the table. “I’ll die before I ask that animal for help!”
“He may be the only hope we have left!” Snap replied, emotion bleeding into his words. “Sir, how many more good mascots have to die? Did Crackle and Pop give their lives for nothing?”
Captain Crunch flinched as if struck. He stood up, grabbing his drink and hobbling around his desk to stare out of the window. He watched the sun vanish beneath the horizon.
“This war has taken things from all of us, son,” he said quietly.
“That’s why we have to end it, Horatio.”
The Captain sighed, his shoulders sagging as he drained the last of his whiskey. “Make the call,” he said. Then he added in a whisper, “and may God have mercy on our souls.”
Two hours later, deep in the heart of Africa, a satellite phone begins to ring inside a simple thatched-roof hut. A gigantic tiger walks over to it and answers, a cigar hanging from his mouth.
“Tony?” the voice on the other end says. “It’s Sergeant Snap. How are things in the, uh, jungle?”
“Are you expecting me to say ‘They’re Great’?” the tiger replies. “You called to ask me something. Ask it.”
Snap clears his throat. “I… I mean we… I mean the Captain and I were…” he cuts off as the tiger growls.
“Have a chopper here at dawn tomorrow,” he says. “And tell Crunch to stay the hell out of my way.” He pauses, taking a long drag of the cigar before continuing. “Hunting season is officially open.”
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Want to read something that is still fairly short but a bit less… soggy? I may have just what you’re looking for:
Three Dots
Welcome to my little corner of the internet! I’m so glad you’re here. Below you’ll find a short story about Artificial Intelligence and some of the interesting (and dangerous?) possibilities it represents.
Love it!
I was hoping this would come to fruition. Thank you 🙏