The vultures were circling overhead the Mayfair Market when I entered to secure the goods. It was dark inside. Darker than usual on a day filled with so much apprehension and despair. The ducks were all lined up against me and there only seemed to be one answer readily making itself available to my needs.

It was an old answer.

A tried and true answer that spoke to parts of me that hadnt really been spoken to in a long time. An answer that had modified itself over the years and had taken on several new colors. It was blue, mainly, and then some kind of turquoise that Im not entirely comfortable even thinking aboutbut, for the purposes of this piece. It was sort of berry, although over years of traveling, Ive never quite run across a berry that would share said hue with any kind of conviction whatsoever. Like I said when I began, Fix Kids, there are a lot of things that lack shape and size in regards to what Im saying. A lot of answers that arent readily available as I write this.

But with my own fleeting faith to steel meand yours too. I will proceed.

The cashier seemed to know what was going on. She was squinting behind a pair of squint-free reading glasses and running her somewhat long narrow fingers through her decidedly dyed hair as I pushed the Crunch Berries up and over the bar code reader. It was clear that, even though she had other things on her mind, she seemed to sense that she still resented the fact that I took such a hubristic liberty in her service area, by the time, I reached into my pocket to retrieve said amount of cashola, it would only be a few seconds before some sort of bell-system would begin to sound and thenId be on my own.

Somebody upstairs didnt like me, or was trying to keep something away from me. Possible, someone had issues with the fact that I was looking for such monumentous answers regarding my life and your life down deep inside the hollow narrow that constitutes a box of Capn Crunch. Answers to questions like why, who, what, and how many. Not to mention, what time is it?

Questions many other cereals would not quite have the goods to answer.

Questions, however, that I knew there would be no problem answering once I escaped the ever-watchful eye and drawn gun of the Mayfair sentry that was now finding my fat running ass in his sight as I tried with much perspiration to escape any further notice at my local super market.

It was no use, the jig was up. I was left with little choice but to make a run for the door and hope to escape before the bullets got too closeclinging to the notion that when I got homethe milk would hit the berries and the bowl and it would all be good once again.

A notion that I would feel that warm tingling goodness that the Capn offers a boy and his cat when theyve got a dream.

A notion that despite the fact that the roof of my mouth would probably suffer in the Capn Crunch kind of way (and it did), that it would all be okay for the duration of that meal.

What Im trying to tell you people in the span of several hundred words is that Crunch Berries kill the pain. It kills almost any kind of pain, with the exception of bonafide death and disease pain. If youre feeling the non-descript every day kind of pain and you dont want to join a gym or some kind of support groupthen pull some sort of woolen cap over your head and make your way over to your local supermarket to secure a single box of Crunch Berries.

All you have to do is shell out some version of four bucks. The Capn will do the rest. Trust me.

Ciao.