Milk-Quake

As I set the carton heavily onto the table, I watched milk ripples dance through my cereal bowl, not unlike the glass of water in Jurassic Park. I had set it down far too hard. Almost dropped it.

In slow motion I watched as my yellow box of Sugar Crisp tipped over, slowly spilling its golden contents. I thrust my hand out and grabbed the falling box, mid-tumble. Using every one of my puny wrist muscles I righted the Sugar Crisp as quickly as I could.

But I miscalculated.

My overcorrection sent the super delicious golden puffed wheat bouncing off my own face, their collective momentum unstoppable. A four-letter word escaped my lips as I slammed the box onto the table, then carefully guarded it with my open hands. "Dang!"

The milk-quake had been disastrous. Thousands of puffed wheat food bits lay like thousands of dead bodies across my dining room floor. The chair beside me held a veritable bowlful. All of it wasted, mixed with a week's worth of dust as well as hair of the cat and human variety.

I got up from my chair to examine the aftermath. It was worse than I thought. The Sugar Crisp crushed under my feet like crunching snow full of sugar granules. It was difficult to walk without making the mess even worse. The poor cats, thinking it was food, scrambled around trying to gobble it up, much to their disappointment.

When everyone's emotions had calmed, the Department of Cereal Blunders (me) took measurements. Disaster was felt as far away as the living room. Puffed wheat carcasses reached as far as 7' 11" from the epicentre of the the milk-quake.

Ending the saddest day to ever strike cereal land, the clean-up crew spent approximately 8 minutes vaccuming, then sent the Roomba in to finish up with the sugar dust while family members consoled Sugar Bear.