Day 204: Adios to Cheerios

As the official large featherless assistant, all I can say is – I wouldn’t want to be a Cheerio in our household.

With some dishes, you might have a prayer of getting away.

But not if you are a Cheerio.

(Here you may be thinking, “But what about waffles? Waffles seems to have just as precarious an existence when it comes to Pearl.”)

Hah. Whereas waffles are lovingly crooned over and tended to, and only then delicately ingested in tiny little nibbles worthy of British high tea, Cheerios are inhaled and annihilated.

In fact, the mere glimpse of a Cheerio is enough to recalibrate all “stalk and kill” instincts to the “Gladiator” setting.

See for yourself.

Look at them all. So helpless. Just the way I like them!
Look at them all. So helpless and flavorful – just the way I like ’em!
I'll just select my first victim.
I’ll just select my first victim.
The fearsome Cheerio gladiator brings all his might and considerable skill to the fray (not to mention a very photogenic profile).
Sure, Mom. You can snap a press photo of me gripping the victim.
This one is trying hard to slip through my beak, which gives me a great opportunity to demonstrate my best weapon - the gladiator "bite o' death."
This one is trying hard to slip through my beak, which gives me a great opportunity to demonstrate one of my best weapons – the gladiator’s “bite o’ death.”
My prey only gets two choices - be consumed or plunge to their death.
My prey only gets two choices – be consumed or plunge to their death.
I always like to have my large featherless assistant take a picture of the plungers...I'm just nostalgic that way.
I always like to have my large featherless assistant take a picture of the plungers…for my memory book.

Author: Shannon Cutts
Co-Author: Pearl Cutts

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