Knisper! Knasper! Knusper!
One morning as Chaz sat down to his breakfast it was quickly apparent that something was amiss. Instead of being greeted to the cacophony of Snap! Crackle! Pop! that he was used to hearing after pouring milk on his Rice Krispies cereal, he thought he heard Knisper! Knasper! Knusper!
Chaz put his ear closer to the bowl. It was Knisper! Knasper! Knusper! not Snap! Crackle! Pop! Then he heard some giggling coming from the cereal box. He grabbed the box and turned it about carelessly in a whatthefuck? manner. The top was not closed all the way and a healthy portion of the cereal spilled out onto the kitchen floor. The giggling turned to laughter.
On the back of the box, near the bottom, Chaz noticed the three cartoon characters – Snap, Crackle, and Pop – that together make up the trademark image for Rice Krispies cereal. They have been the trademark for the cereal since well before he was born. Normally, they exuded the endearing cuteness we have come to expect from our cartoon cereal characters. But on this particular morning they were old and haggard and, well, talking.
“We’re just messing with you,” said Snap. He was wearing a baker’s hat and a yellow jacket. They are brothers, Snap, Crackle and Pop. Snap is the eldest. “Knisper! Knasper! Knusper! That’s the sound we make in Germany when you pour milk on us.”
“Piff! Paff! Puff! That’s us in Sweden,” said Crackle, the middle Krispy sibling. He wore a red and white striped stocking cap.
“Pim! Pum! Pam! in Mexico,” said Pop, reluctantly, but on cue. Pop is the youngest of the brothers. He wore a military uniform.
“Why are you here?” Chaz asked them in a shaky voice. The kind of voice that you might not know you have. The one reserved for talking to a cereal box.
“We just turned seventy-two years old,” said Snap. “We’re getting up there in age.”
“That’s right. We was born in 1933,” said Crackle with a vapid smile.
All these years of eating Rice Krispies cereal and Chaz had never noticed that Snap, Crackle and Pop each had unique character traits. Crackle was clearly an idiot. Pop seemed edgy; he kept looking away as though he had someplace better to be.
Chaz directed his response to Snap, the sanest and least menacing of the rice kernels. “I had no idea you were that old.” He scooped up some cereal from the bowl and ate it. “You certainly taste fresher than that.”
“Oh, another fucking wise ass,” shouted Pop. “Just what we need.”
“Hey, watch your language.” In addition to being the leader, Snap was the voice of reason for the brothers.
“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m sick of this crap. I’m done. I want out,” Pop groused.
“Look,” said Snap. “Just take it easy. He’s the last one. I promise. After this, we go back to the Kellogg’s plant, turn in our resignations and go our separate ways. Exactly as planned.”
“Oh, don’t fight, don’t fight.” Crackle had his hands over his ears and was rocking back and forth.
“Whoa, what’s this all about?” Chaz was increasingly certain that he had lost his mind.
“Let’s get this over with,” Pop said looking over at his eldest brother. They nodded sullenly at each other in agreement.
Snap took a breath and then began to speak. “We’re getting ready to retire. The thing is we’re kind of old to be the spokeskernels for a popular cereal like Rice Krispies. It takes a lot of energy and personal commitment and, frankly, we’re tired. But, before we call it quits, we wanted to reach out to a few of our most faithful customers. People who have been eating this wonderful cereal all their lives. People like you.”
“I still don’t get why you’re here,” Chaz said. “Reach out in what way?”
“Well…” Snap stopped to consider just the right words.
“We think you’ve pretty much messed up your life,” Crackle chimed in.
“What?”
“No, that’s not exactly right,” Snap started to correct Crackle.
“You’re a fuck up. You haven’t accomplished shit.” Pop said, pointing a little stubby finger at Chaz.
“You know what? I don’t need this from a cartoon on a cereal box.” Chaz turned away and picked up the sports page of the newspaper.
“What are you going to do about it?” said Pop, taunting the young man before him at the breakfast table. “I’ve served in every war since World War I.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, you little puffed rice…” Chaz rolled up the newspaper like he was about to swat a fly.
“Hold on. Whoa. Gentleman,” Snap struggled to maintain order. Crackle hid behind his oldest brother, quaking. “The thing is, we’ve been watching you over the years and, well, we don’t think you’ve been living up to your potential.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m doing okay, I think.”
“Yeah, you are. Doing okay. But you could be doing so much more.”
“What can I say to this? Give me an example.”
“Okay, you know how you are always thinking that you should better yourself? Haven’t you wanted to learn another language? French, isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah. I’m still thinking about that. You know how it is. I just haven’t gotten around to it.”
“You’ve been saying that for nearly ten years. So, when will the time be right? Then there’s the marathon. Every year you say you’re going to run one, but it never happens. And weren’t you going to learn to play the guitar?” Snap looked at Chaz with soft, caring eyes. He really was a compassionate cereal crisp.
“You know,” Chaz said, “Funny you should mention that marathon. I’ve been thinking that this is the year. For real.”
Pop snickered in disbelief.
“That would be great. We know you can do it.” Snap gave Pop a harsh look.
‘Ooh, can I do my part now?” Crackle jumped around excitedly. “Can I? Please?”
“Just a second, Crackle,” said Snap, turning his attention back to Chaz. “Then there’s that book you’ve been writing.”
Chaz’s heart sunk. He had a feeling the book would come up. Chaz had been working on a novel for a couple of years now but had pretty much given up on it. “Okay, you got me there. I really should be writing more. But I’ve kind of hit a wall and I really don’t have the time.” He could hear the echo of that cliché in his mind even before the words were fully out of his mouth.
And then came this knock-out punch, delivered by the idiot savant, Crackle.
“You could find the time if you stopped masturbating so much.” The words just hung out there in the air.
Pop made a rude gesture with his hand and laughed hysterically.
“Okay, I think this has gone too far.” Chaz said angrily and started to get up.
“I’m afraid it’s true,” said Snap. “Sit down, Chaz. Just listen to this.” He turned to Crackle and gave him a nod.
Crackle pulled a scroll from behind his back and began to read from a list that included the date, time and location of every, well, you know, since Chaz was thirteen years old. As far as Chaz knew it was accurate.
All he could think to say was, “So what? I masturbate. Everyone does. Nothing wrong with that.”
“It’s not that you do it,” said Snap. “It’s how much you do it.”
“Come on. I’m just an average wanker.”
“You’re in the top five percent,” said Crackle; again that vacant smile.
“Of Rice Krispies eaters,” qualified Snap. “We can’t speak for the population at large.”
“Congratulations, nimrod,” said Pop, “you finally found something you’re good at!”
“Let me get this straight,” Chaz said. “You think that I masturbate too much?”
Crackle read from his scroll again. “Total time: 9,126 hours. Or approximately 380 days.”
The numbers hit him hard – he had spent an entire year of his life jerking off. And he was only twenty-nine years old. “Oh my God, I don’t know what to say.”
“You know,” said Snap, “Tolstoy had half of War and Peace written in that amount of time.”
“Which half? War or Peace?” Pop sneered…ever the prick.
Chaz was flabbergasted. “Okay, I see your point. Wow. Maybe I do need to cut back some.”
“Perhaps you should consider giving it up completely.” Snap gave Chaz a reassuring smile.
“You mean, like, not at all?”
“It’s for the best,” Snap advised.
“Yeah, get off the stick, bucko,” said Pop.
Chaz’s mind wandered and thought about all that time wasted. Then he started thinking about how much he could have accomplished. Snap, Crackle and Pop were right. He could have written his book by now. Things might have gone differently for him. But it’s not too late. He could still take French lessons. Why not? With a little training he could run a marathon. Hell, he could even learn to play the guitar. The sky’s the limit.
Chaz looked at the boys on his cereal box. “This didn’t happen just now, did it?” he asked. There was no answer, just the trademarked cartoon image of Snap, Crackle, and Pop staring back at him. The cereal in his bowl was soggy now. No matter, he wasn’t hungry any longer. Chaz took his dishes to the sink, crunching along on the spilled cereal bits underfoot. With a renewed sense of determination, he wandered upstairs and got right to it.
9:52:38 PM 
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