What's a zombie's favorite cereal: Brain flakes

For good or bad (Notice how, when anyone says that, it usually leans towards the bad?), I am doggedly loyal. When I commit...I commit HARD. And this loyalty isn't just limited to people. Pepsi. Russell Stover Chocolate Marshmallow Bunnies. Wyoming County. The East Coast. My friend Val and I almost came to blows over the great Hostess/Little Debbie debate on Tuesday but, fortunately, we were able to find common ground in our mutual love for insurance commercials.  

So it was, with my loyalty leotard firmly in place, that I screeched to a halt in the grocery store, my wobbly-wheeled cart leaving tread marks on the highly-trafficked tile. Usually, the appearance of my childhood favorite cereals brings about squeals of delight and an internal debate conflict of how many boxed purchases would result in cashier judgement.  But this time, I (appropriately) felt waves of horror at an unprecedented addition to my usual monster cereal line-up. 

I immediately alerted my girls.

Me: (sending pictorial evidence) What the...? Cherry flavored???!!!

Sydney: (horrified because she's been raised right) Did Frankenberry get censored? 

Me:  No...it was on the bottom shelf. As you know, it's strawberry flavored. They (insert snarl here for obvious betrayal of my cereal trust) ADDED a new monster cereal. I don't know whether to be delighted or disgusted.

Lisa:  Ha-ha. Did you get to try it? (She's new folks, so we have to forgive her light-hearted flippancy. Her use of the word "get" denotes a privileged opportunity. If...and that was a big IF...I chose to sample this unasked for addition, it would be in sacrificial service to the cereal-loving community.

Me:  I refused on principle and regretted upon passing.

Feeling dirty, I finally went back and brought it. While I would typically tear into my beloved Booberry or Frankenberry cereal before I'd even left the grocery store parking lot, the box of "Frute Brute" (It even sounds wrong when I say it) sat, forlorn, in sad exile in my cupboard as I wrestled with my consumer conscience about its purchase.

It was then that I decided to conduct a little research (What? Don't YOU research your cereal before you eat it?). As Booberry was a much-anticipated and beloved companion each October of my childhood (Yeah...and adulthood), I was not surprised to learn that it was initially manufactured in 1972, shortly following Frankenberry and Count Chocula. 

Fun fact. They artist who drew the Trix Rabbit, also created the monsters! 

But...get this:  The "Fruit Brute" (apparently he could spell back then) was introduced in (gasp) 1974! WHAT?!?! He was retired in 1982. If his abrupt disappearance was the result of a seedy womanizing scandal or political malfeasance, we are not likely to know as I was unable to find any sort of paper trail. It was interesting to note that "Fruit Brute" made appearances in both "Pulp Fiction" and "Reservoir Dogs." As Taratino also seems to have a foot fetish, I am not surprised that he went for this particular monster cereal.

If that wasn't shocking enough (Are you sitting down?), "Yummy Mummy" made its debut in 1988 but sales must have unraveled because it disappeared in 1992. How on earth did I miss this? Oh...I was 18. Cereal was not high on my list of consumables at that time.

Apparently 2013 marks the unprecedented time in history where ALL 5 monster cereals hit the shelves at the same time...perhaps a preapocalyptic precursor to climate change, Covid, inflation, gas prices, and the invasion of the spotted lanturnfly?

Alright.

Research done, it was time to move forward with my investigation.

With a winced apology to Booberry and Frankenberry, I poured myself a bowl of "Frute Brute," removing rating points just for contributing to the spelling inaccuracies of minors.  Crunching down on my first bite, I was pleased that it reflected the crunchy airiness associated with my monster cereals. The marshmallow-to-dry-cereal ratio was also similar to its fellow frightening breakfast buddies (Note-to-self: Compose a strongly worded lament beseeching the manufacturer to add MORE marshmallows to each box). Okay. I didn't hate it. But did it gain my loyalty? 

Imagine a scenario where I was adrift in the freezing Atlantic, balanced precariously upon a floating doorframe with limited space. Let's just say that I wouldn't hesitate to make room for Booberry or Frankenberry. I would let "Frute Brute" hang on to the edges but I would NOT make any promises to him unless he pledged to immediately conduct a name change upon our return to land. Count Chocula is on his own.

I wish the manufacturer had consulted me prior to this marketing gimmick. Now that I am aware of their desire for monster-expansion, I feel like I have the perfect NEW product name for their line-up:  Cereal Killer!

I hope that this little experiment has been helpful to you, the cereal-eating public.