A one-shot written for no real reason. Tyler's attempt to start his day off right goes terribly wrong.
Feedback is much appreciated!
A story written by Reddy.
The Most Important Meal of the Day
Just like any story that needs a beginning, the sun shined in Tyler’s face through his bedroom window, causing the jock to awaken. Still groggy and tired, Tyler slowly sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes then stretching his arms as he let out a loud, obnoxious yawn. He glanced at his nightstand, where seemingly all of his world possessions were strewn. A picture of him and buxom girlfriend, Lindsay; wadded-up sheets of paper for whenever he felt like reliving his junior high days as the waste-basket-ball champion; his phone, screen totally cracked, reflecting the many, many misfortunes he encountered daily.
But none more valuable than what came next. His most prized possession, the thing that truly made Tyler, well, Tyler. The thing that gave him the strength and reminded him who he was and what he was born to do. His red-and-white headband. Tyler snatched the headband, quickly throwing it around his head.
“Booyah! I’ve got the power!” Tyler laughed, sprinting out of his bedroom. Now, this next part can be chalked up purely to Tyler’s own stupidity. He knew that there was a staircase right outside his room and he knew that he probably shouldn’t have been running while still in his socks, but nonetheless, the inevitable happened. Tyler went barreling down the stairs, eventually crashing straight into the wall and causing his entire house to shake.
“TYLER!!!” An unseen voice shrieked as Tyler was still experiencing the agonizing pain of his terrible mishap. “HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO STOP RUNNING INDOORS?!?!”
“S-s-sorry mom!” Tyler yelled back as he slowly got back up on his feet, rubbing his tail bone.
“DOES SORRY FIX THE DENTS YOU PUT IN MY WALLS?!” Tyler was rather annoyed by this point.
“Yeah, I’m totally fine mom, thanks for asking!”
“DON’T TAKE THAT TONE WITH ME, YOUNG LADY!”
“FOR THE LAST TIME, MOM, I AM A BOY!”
“NOT WITH THAT HAIRDO, YOU’RE NOT! WHERE ARE YOU HEADED, THE NINETIES THROWBACK PAGEANT SCHOOL?!”
Tyler grit his teeth and stormed through his house until he got to the kitchen. He didn’t have to put up with his mother’s antics, he told himself. He could easily leave home this very instant and survive just fine on his own. Heck, any day now, Tyler was expecting to hear back from that recruiter her talked to in April. It was July now, of course, and it usually only took the recruiters three to four weeks to call back, but Tyler figured that so many people wanted him that it would take longer. After all, he was the star player of his fifth grade handball team, and if none of these recruiters thought that was cool, he would sure like to know how many handball teams those guys have championed.
But none of that was important right now. The only thing on Tyler’s mind was opening the cabinets, pouring himself a nice, calming bowl of Capt'n Chuckie’s Go-Go Candy-Flavored Cereal Oats, and then meeting with his babe later at the spa. Manicures only, of course; manicures only.
However, when Tyler opened the cabinets, it was as if his entire world came crashing down at once.
They were completely out of Capt'n Chuckie’s Go-Go Candy-Flavored Cereal Oats. Tyler looked to be on the verge of tears at this point; how was he supposed to be a champion for the day if he didn’t have any of Capt'n Chuckie’s Go-Go Candy-Flavored Cereal Oats to start his day off the right way? Tyler contemplated for a moment, before glancing at the clock. Okay, 10:26 AM, Tyler thought. More than enough time to get to the store, buy the cereal, and get back before 11. After all, anything eaten after 11 AM was no longer breakfast, it was brunch. And brunch is disgusting.
And with that, Tyler threw on his signature red sweatsuit, shoved his feet into some tennis shoes, hopped on his bike and pedaled like a bat out of Hell. Cutting in and out of traffic, Tyler felt the adrenaline rushing through his body. He wouldn’t stop pedaling unless--
The jock skid to a quick, sudden stop as his worst nightmare came to fruition.
At the local supermarket, in the small cereal aisle, Beardo was merrily stocking shelves with boxes of various cereals as he made generic grocery store music. Just as the living music box finished putting the last box on his current shelf, Tyler came running into the aisle, sweating bullets and gasping for air.
“Where is it?” Tyler asked, collapsing to his knees and grabbing Beardo’s legs. “Where, man?”
After an awkward moment of silence, in which the only sound to be heard was Tyler’s tired breathing, Beardo began to play the Jeopardy! theme song. Tyler panicked even more, bolting to his feet and grabbing Beardo by his collar, clearly in some state of delusion.
“Capt'n Chuckie’s Go-Go Candy-Flavored Cereal Oats,” he whispered gravely.
Beardo responded with a sad trombone effect and a shrug.
Tyler shook his head. “No, man, you don’t understand. I need that cereal. Otherwise I can’t be the strong, objectively-attractive athlete the world NEEDS me to be! You’ve gotta know where it is!”
Beardo made a loud, blaring trumpet noise in order to throw Tyler back away from him. He grumpily walked down the aisle, pointing towards a particular box of cereal. Tyler walked over briskly in order to read the box.
“Capt’n Chuckie’s Go-Go Sushi-Flavored Cereal Wheats,” Tyler read. “No, no! That’s not it! That’s not the breakfast that’s going to make my day great!” With all of the commotion he was causing, Tyler drew the attention of the store manager, who reluctantly came over.
“What seems to be the problem here?” The manager asked.
Beardo made a few rather obscene noises.
“Beardo, watch your tongue. Candy-Flavored Cereal Oats?” The manager simply reached behinds a few boxes of the Sushi-Flavored Cereal Wheats before pulling out a box of Tyler’s beloved. The jock quickly snatched it out of the manager's hand, proceeding to cradle it as if it was his firstborn child. The manager and Beardo exchanged awkward glances.
“My precious…” Tyler purred, evidently sweet-talking to the cereal.
The manager’s hands went directly to her hips. “Do you plan on paying for that cereal or should I call the wedding planner?” Tyler blinked, shoved seven dollars into the manager’s hand, and ran out of the store.
Beardo pointed at Tyler as he ran and made the cuckoo noise.
The manager sighed. “I should probably get someone to check these boxes for addictive substances…” Beardo shrugs. “That’s the third lunatic this week looking for that cereal,” she continues. Beardo’s eyes widened exponentially.
Box of cereal in hand, Tyler wasted no time on his return trip. This time even cutting through the duck crossing. As he pulled up to his house, the jock jumped off his bike and ran inside. The clock read 10:50 AM, much to Tyler’s joy. He would be able to eat breakfast!
Tyler set the box of cereal down on the counter, getting out both a plastic bowl and silver spoon, two most important ingredients when one is enjoying their favorite breakfast. Tyler opened the refrigerator and stopped dead in his tracks.
Not a drop of milk was to be found.