Fiction

Cereal Killers
by D. Harlan Wilson

A man decided to become a serial killer. His target: all of the cereal killers in the city whose many victims included various new and improved brands names . . .

“It’s the same old shit!” was the cereal killers’ logic.

“I’m bored,” was the man’s logic.

“This is problematic,” was what a flâneur said when he read about the serial killings in the newspaper. Because after all of the cereal killers were dead, there was no longer any means of population control. New and improved brands of cereal multiplied like tribbles. Soon the city was infested and there was nothing anybody could do about it except sit down in their kitchens and quietly eat their new and improved breakfasts.

And so the man decided to become a cereal killer. “The city needs me,” was his logic.

“Who needs a job when you’ve got the bling-bling?” was the flâneur’s logic.

“Ouch!” was what the boxes of cereal exclaimed when the man’s bullets pierced their skin . . .