Cutting The Roof Of My Mouth

crunchberries

[Ok. So I’ve tested my last two puzzle ideas on random people and they are evidently not that easy to figure out. In the spirit of dialing it waaay back. I’m going the other extreme and making something so damn easy you’ll say “C’mon, really? I could poop that answer in my sleep.” Though, that would be gross and kind of awkward. Level of difficulty = You get an A just for being awake.]

Oh Cap’n, my Cap’n!

Your treasure trove of crunchety crunchiness fills my taste buds with the flavor of the Gods! When I am away from this inspired deliciousness I wilt and faint from lack of the sweet saccharin high infused in your most food colored of fruit. Great sugary mayhem!

You are more splendid than Splenda!

You are more nutritious than Nutrasweet!

I would trade a pound of pure cane sugar for a box of your scrumptious power any day. When I ingest your flavorful flavorness I can scale tall mountains with a single bound off of my big toe. I can lift yellow buses with my mind and, if I’m lazy, my right pinky. Babies get saved from burning buildings. Cats get removed from trees. Tipped cows get righted. Parking tickets get paid! I say, parking…tickets…get…paid! Swoon!

Even your after milk becomes a supreme drink that rivals the great H2O. I cannot defy your greatness. I gladly risk daily cavities for just a sip of your off white delight so that I can swirl and swish it around in my mouth and eek out every last taste of the greatest mouth melody to hit my tongue glands. You are pure ecstasy invading the pleasure centers of my sweetened crazed brain. Gummi bears! Bouncing here and there and everywhere! You cannot trounce on me. I am pumped full of mightiness! Can I get a high five for diabetic ADD?!

You make my stomach rejoice in ecstacy. When I am pumped full of your tasty berries I am no longer the Secret Asian Man. I pop off my ninja mask to reveal the most maniacal of grins. My eyes twinkle wide with wired deviousness. My plans to take over the world are hatched in these moments of miraculousness. Call me Dr. Yes!

But what is this? You are not quite close to perfunctory perfection. You wield the sharp edges of revenge that my Pincers of Power cannot penetrate. For in that swirly grass of berry fantasies lays a snake in waiting. You are the wolf in sheeps hide. You are the ghost in the darkness. You are the bubblegum stuck to my pants! Fie on you! Why must you interrupt my digestive joy to harm my mouth? It is a punch to the stomach of justice. I subpoena you, dear Cap’n, and sentence you back to the halls of your laboratory so that you may remedy this minor travesty. I want pure enjoyment, sir!

Give me perfect sweet fiber or give me oatmeal!

……

Ok, just take a wild guess at what foodstuffs I’m ranting about.

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Tweet me the answer @thewrenproject and maybe, just maybe, we’ll meet up and enjoy a delightfull bowl sometime. I’ll bring the band aids!

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