Cereal at Night

Cereal at night, only three words can be said: BEST FEELING EVER.

I go downstairs, rummage the utensils box and dug out my favourite cereal spoon. You might laugh hard at it when you see it. It's a white plastic spoon, yellowed due to the years it's been hiding in the drawer; even the pink angel printed on it is losing its charm-- whatever, it's still my favourite cereal spoon.

Then, I search the stacks of plates, bowls, containers and basins that's in a hodgepodge of a mess on top of the kitchen counter, trying to find my Winnie the Pooh bowl; desperately. How can one have cereal with their favorite spoon but not their beloved bowl!? I gave up searching for it and took a substitute out of the cupboard-- my second favorite bowl, a highly-breakable cream coloured cereal bowl.

The empty fridge greeted me.

Empty. Empty as in there's nothing I like inside. If anything, our decade old fridge is everything but empty. Packets of unused McDonald's chili sauced stuffed between the empty egg holder, sugar cubes in a poorly wrapped package at the bottom with an almost empty bottle of mayo shoved between a new bottle of ketchup, hardened oyster sauce and some Thai chili sauce that seemed to have been there since the dawn of time. Is that a bottle of vinegar? Bags and bags of wrapped up nonsense blocked the orange light at the back of the fridge. What in the world are in these bags? They have been there longer than that bottle of Thai chili sauce! It'd be too much of a pain to clear them out now, besides, I see my box of cereal and that horrible carton of milk already. They are up front, I really didn't have to look. The mystery of those wrapped up bags remains.

The sound of cereal against the bowl. Relaxing. I never want it to stop. But if I don't stop pouring, they'll fall out of the bowl, roll onto the floor and get stepped on. No, I wouldn't want that to happen! Goodbye, sounds of mini balls filling up an empty bowl!

I take one piece and put it in my mouth. Crunchy. As my teeth crushed that one little ball, I sensed a burst of flavour. Mm... Wheat... I love the taste of wheat. It reminds me of Oishi brand genmai green tea that I would always drink in Thailand and somehow, that taste brings me to an open field at sunset with storks bathing in the muddy water. Of course, once that taste is gone, I stop reminiscing. 

I take a spoonful and shove it into my mouth. Shit, that's too much! Om nom nom nom... My mouth was dry, and as the chewed cereal went down my throat, my oesophagus had a hard time contracting its muscles; peristalsis almost hurt. Finally, I swallowed the ball of crushed chocolate pieces.

Time for the milk to invade my peaceful kingdom of chocolate pieces.

I dislike milk ever since a few years ago when the smell of it made me vomit all over the floor. It was only recently that I've come to accept milk back into my diet. This white, creamy liquid, it's as if I could still smell that farm and cows of Dutch Lady when I open the lid. It makes me sick. But alas, what's the enjoyment of having cereal without milk? This deadly combination is my guilty pleasure in the dead of the night.

I let a piece of cereal slide onto my spoon, then carefully, I let the milk fill up whatever space that's left. I raise it to my lips. One lick of the milk, using the tip of my tongue like a cat. It's time to feed myself properly-- not quite. I like to taste the milk and cereal individually first, thus the reason why there's only a piece floating in my spoonful of milk. Before the innocent white of the milk gets contaminated by the chocolate, I'd like to feel its blandness on my tongue and that indescribable taste which I loathe yet at the same time, it soothes me. 

Time to feed myself properly, like a human being, like a seventeen-year-old highschool student.

I look over at Sarah who took a bowl and sat down beside me. I told her how I like to eat my cereal. She stared at me incredulously and I started laughing. "You're the only abnormal one around here!" and she left me there, alone under the creaking ceiling fan and dull lights.