The Cereal Man gets arrested finally.
Jul 25, 2018 18:04:55 GMT -5
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Post by The Papa John's Pizza Man on Jul 25, 2018 18:04:55 GMT -5
6/23/18
Lancashire, England.
11:10 AM.
What was a Cereal man?
A lot of people asked this question. No doubt referring to the insane, illiterate cereal-devouring, mass genocide conspirator that was AW's own Cereal Man.
The correct answer was completely unknown obviously. Like most things in The Cereal Man's life, the definition of his entire being was completely impossible to describe thanks to the general engulfing oddness of his personality. Did he even have a personality?
A common theory among Those that attempted to deduct The Cereal Man's mind-boggling attempts at conversations was that he was in fact a Cerealirit (Cereal Spirit) and had possessed the body he was using so he could make everyone eat Cereal. As was his task by whatever Cereal things he worshipped this week. And everyone eating Cereal would somehow make this dimension become a "cerealmension".
Of course nobody attempted to deduct what The Cereal Man was saying. Simply because there were easier ways to hear people say nonsensical verbal-Carbon Monoxide without having to run the risk of being force fed Cereal and possibly having your nose bitten off.
The Cereal Man was insane. And if there was one thing that a lot of insane people had it was stupidity.
Insane stupid people and questions were an almost unfathomably bad pairing. So bad in fact most humans had an incredibly irresistible instinct that told them that asking a drunk Cereal Man absolutely anything was a bad idea and should be avoided.
Yet the tall, gruff undertaker who was wearing a scruffy grey coat and a plain black T-shirt wandering around the graveyard was apparently not most people.
And then, of course, when he spotted the not so clearly insane but clearly drunk The Cereal Man staring at a grave with what almost looked like a hint of non-cereal related emotion, he waltzed right over to ask him a question.
The weather the cornered this particular Lancashire graveyard was bright, sunny, cheerful even. A perfect contrast to the scene below. Therefore making The Cereal Man's meetimg with his personal crack to break his dam of emotions seem weird and almost stupid.
Undertaker: That fella right there got buried a couple days ago. Nobody showed up to the funeral. You know him or are you here for like revenge or something?
The Cereal Man lifted his barely emotionless face from the grave to face the actual, not the wrestler, undertaker.
The grave in question belonged to the CerealTender. Who after being paralysed from the waste down by a car attack by the malicious The Donut Guy was cruelly eaten by crocodiles which were also sent our by The Donut Guy.
The Cereal Man felt a weird kind of distraught over that fact. Not because his servant was murdered, or because he was bested, but bevause he almost felt a sadness during that moment.
His vessel wasn't meant to feel. It wasn't meant to laugh or cry or smile or anything like that. It was meant to force feed people Cereal into they liked it and turned the omniverse into Cereal.
The Cereal Man: I'm here for a ment of experi's. An emotional hypothesis of an intentional emotionless Cerealeing.
Undertaker: What?
The Cereal Man: CEREALOD-DANGIT!
Here my being is. A spirit. A golem. A machine whose only purpose is to furfill it's purpose and that purpose being solely directed upon the infection of all carbon based entities' skins and meats with the beautiful pandemic that is Cereal.
And here my body is! Feebly attempting to focus it's brainwaves on a homosapien who's only link to Cereal is a useless collection of names!
The undertaker's face recoiled, obviously shocked by the onslaught of nonsense that was thrown at him. Unfortunately for the gravetender, common manners dictated that he attempt to continue this excuse for a conversation.
Undertaker: Uh... well... I like names?
The Cereal Man: It's not this "name" wrench that is the verbal wrench in my cereal-absortption method of multiverse cerealtion. It's words. These 'words' are a decent form of transporting the greatness of Cereal in a verbal form, but it's also the home to distractions against the Cereal march. My Cereal Party is being bombarded with words and sentences to blind my bodie's brain to it's own goals.
Perhaps there's an easier way to spread my Cerealirus. Perhaps it's not the convertion of these mortal humans that my soul need a to ensure as reality but the elimination of them.
YES! I figured it out now! To destroy all emotional distractions I must eliminate the plants which emulate these uncerealated pollens of doubt! And then!
When my shell of skin is the sole representative of the cosmic bus that is humanities existence I shall hold all the control over the remote of all that is known to my carbon brain! And therefore he control over it's materials! And it's ionic weapons of eradification!
And then I shall insert this populace power into my meat of thought and command all that is human! AND WHEN I CONTROL THE HUMANS, I SHALL CONTROL WHAT THE HUMANS WANT!
AND YOU KNOW WHAT THIS BEING WANTS OH TAKER OF UNDERS?!
Undertaker: W- what?
The Cereal Man: I wanna wake up in a dimension where all existence doesn't exist. I wanna open my eyes of spirits and realise I have no eyes. Nor do I have spirits or consousness or even a shallow of feeling to ensure that I am at least aware of what used to be of existence and I wanna open my real eyes.
And see my paradise.
No death.
No life.
Only Cereal.
Naught but Cereal.
The Cereal Man had managed to let out a large amount of saliva during his rant. His sudden realisation taking his consciousness away from reality and into his alcohol corrupted mind.
Yet like a mental boomerang The Cereal Man was whipped back to reality and turned his neck like it's was a wooden automata and gazed into the soul of The Undertaker, who still had no idea what he was talking about and was fairly certain he was allowed to leave.
The undertaker slowly started to walk away it was stopped when an unexpected but large burst of wind bursted towards him.
The undertaker covered his face with his right arm to shield his face from the oncoming tsunami of wind.
A helicopter was slowly descending upon the pair at the graveyard. The Cereal Man barely blinked as the wind was fired past his face, he saw no reason to close his eyes, for his Cerealenses where much to powerful to be affected by the loss of sight.
Inside the helicopter was a man that fueled The Cereal Man with rage. The mere sight of him could force The Cereal Man into a Cerealenzy.
Normally you'd expect this to be a scar faces villain, a tyrannical, greedy, super-evil, portrayed by Tom Cruise bad guy with a cool looking scar and a leather jacket and the inability to tell anyone where he got the scar because then It's be less cool.
Instead it was the slightly more crazy, slightly more stupid, slightly more suprisingly resourceful and slightly more the exact opposite of Tom Cruise MMA Fighter: The Donut Guy.
The Donut Guy laughed maniacally and screamed down at The Cereal Man.
The Donut Guy: What's up The Cereal Man? Didn't expect to see me here? Well that's too bad be- OH WAIT! NONONO-!
A rocket flew into the propeller of the helicopter and The Donut Guy leaped out of the cockpit, still in regular MMA shorts, albeit with a parachute strapped around his back, presumably because he took a quick break from his job just to mess with The Cereal Man.
The Donut Guy pulled his parachute as the helicopter spazzamed out like a mechanical chicken with no head and a blown out back propeller and span away, exploding in the distance as The Donut Guy landed into the ground.
The Cereal Man threw his Rocket Launcher to the ground, said launchers origins being unknown but who cared at this point except for the police?
The undertaker's mind was blown. Like if a fly realised that all the giant things that it surrounded had entire books dedicated to what it did and they called his race Flies instead of whatever flies call themselves.
Undertaker: What in the...
The Cereal Man: Close your tongue infested mouth, mortal. It's not the time for words anymore. It's the time for action!
The Cereal Man started to sprint towards The Donut Guy with the fury of a Cereal Man when someone dislikes Cereal. The Donut Guy was still on the ground and managed to list the now flat parachute off of him.
The Donut Guy: WAIT!
The Cereal Man halted in his path and raised his nose in an animalistic snarl aimed at the Guy of Donuts. Such a snarl wouldn't be misplaced upon the face of a hungry hyena.
The Cereal Man hissed towards his downed foe.
The Cereal Man: What?
The Donut Guy: I sprained my ankle!
The Donut Guy's shout wasn't accompanied by malice or desperation. It was a plains shout. As if The Donut Guy was talking to a friend.
The Cereal Man: What?!
The Donut Guy: I Like- like I just fell on it badly and it hurts when I walk on it so like-
The Cereal Man: Seriously?!
The Donut Guy: Well- Y- yeah! Like I didn't mean to! But like-
The Cereal Man: But we had this whole thing! It was gonna be like a big fight!
The Donut Guy: W- I'm sorry, man. Like- I don't- You know what I can probably still do it, gimme a sec.
The Cereal Man: No, don't worry about it.
The Donut Guy: Nah it's ok, I- I- I just need to not put so much weight on it and then I'll be fine-
The Cereal Man: Don't! You'd just get hurt more! W- We- Hey! We can do it next week.
The Donut Guy: Really?
The Cereal Man: Yeah, no worries.
The Donut Guy: Ok..
...
I'm sorry this is all-
The Cereal Man: Nah, ma-
The Donut Guy: -My fault, I mean you had this all planned out and-
The Cereal Man: Don't worry about it man seriously, it's cool! No problem.
The Donut Guy: Is it?
The Cereal Man: Yeah of course, no worries.
The Donut Guy: ...Thanks, man.
The Cereal Man: Hey, don't be too hard on yourself. It was kinda my fault anyway, I didn't like warn you or anything, too quick on the draw I think.
The Donut Guy: Thanks man... That actually means a lot and shit. Like being an MMA fighter is proper stressful with the whole cutting weight thing. And like you kinda like fell like you're doing it alone so it's nice to have someone like understand you and shit.
The Cereal Man: Oh yeah, totally. Like the people at AW don't even talk to me and shit. It's kinda lonely. And they got proper issues like they're a lot of them just talk to themselves out of nowhere. Like- they're kinda naecicistic. They- They've got a lot of unhealthy traits, basically.
The Donut Guy: And they say you're weird!
The Cereal Man: Exactly! Ex- Exactly!
The Donut Guy: Yeah, this one time I was fighting some dude. And during the match I offered to give him a donut and he said "No" so I start force feeding him it. And everyone gives me these weird looks and shit and I'm like: "If you said yes I wouldn't-"
The Cereal Man: "Be force feeding you!" Yeah I get that all the time!
The Donut Guy: I know right! Why you guys looking at me like that?
The Cereal Man: Yeah! Say- Do you want like some Cereal or something? I have like a spare box in the trunk and I thought that you looked pretty hungry so like.
The Donut Guy: Thanks for the offer but no thanks. I just had a subway.
The Cereal Man: YOU IGNORANT, UNCOUTH NIMROOOOOD!!!
The Cereal Man sprinted towards The Donut Guy and kept upon the poor confused prey. Before beating his fa e with unbridled ferocity.
The Cereal Man: YOUR IGNORANCE SHALL BE PUNISHED BY THE ANGEL OF JUSTICE!! MY HANDS ARE JUST! MY CAUSE IS JUST! YOUR LIFE OF EVIL SHALL BE BLEACHED AWAY BY MY PHYSICAL SONG OF GOODNESS!!
The Cereal Man was stopped in his beating by a police officer who tackled him off The Donut Guy. The Cereal Man went to bite the police officers nose off and succeeded in acquiring a tight grip of the cops face. But was soon brought of by more police who had no doubt been called to stop the explosion.
Handcuffs were placed onto the Two Food Guys/Men and they were both dragged away to the surrounding police vehicles. Screaming about their respective food and how it was the key to humanities salvation.
Lancashire, England.
11:10 AM.
What was a Cereal man?
A lot of people asked this question. No doubt referring to the insane, illiterate cereal-devouring, mass genocide conspirator that was AW's own Cereal Man.
The correct answer was completely unknown obviously. Like most things in The Cereal Man's life, the definition of his entire being was completely impossible to describe thanks to the general engulfing oddness of his personality. Did he even have a personality?
A common theory among Those that attempted to deduct The Cereal Man's mind-boggling attempts at conversations was that he was in fact a Cerealirit (Cereal Spirit) and had possessed the body he was using so he could make everyone eat Cereal. As was his task by whatever Cereal things he worshipped this week. And everyone eating Cereal would somehow make this dimension become a "cerealmension".
Of course nobody attempted to deduct what The Cereal Man was saying. Simply because there were easier ways to hear people say nonsensical verbal-Carbon Monoxide without having to run the risk of being force fed Cereal and possibly having your nose bitten off.
The Cereal Man was insane. And if there was one thing that a lot of insane people had it was stupidity.
Insane stupid people and questions were an almost unfathomably bad pairing. So bad in fact most humans had an incredibly irresistible instinct that told them that asking a drunk Cereal Man absolutely anything was a bad idea and should be avoided.
Yet the tall, gruff undertaker who was wearing a scruffy grey coat and a plain black T-shirt wandering around the graveyard was apparently not most people.
And then, of course, when he spotted the not so clearly insane but clearly drunk The Cereal Man staring at a grave with what almost looked like a hint of non-cereal related emotion, he waltzed right over to ask him a question.
The weather the cornered this particular Lancashire graveyard was bright, sunny, cheerful even. A perfect contrast to the scene below. Therefore making The Cereal Man's meetimg with his personal crack to break his dam of emotions seem weird and almost stupid.
Undertaker: That fella right there got buried a couple days ago. Nobody showed up to the funeral. You know him or are you here for like revenge or something?
The Cereal Man lifted his barely emotionless face from the grave to face the actual, not the wrestler, undertaker.
The grave in question belonged to the CerealTender. Who after being paralysed from the waste down by a car attack by the malicious The Donut Guy was cruelly eaten by crocodiles which were also sent our by The Donut Guy.
The Cereal Man felt a weird kind of distraught over that fact. Not because his servant was murdered, or because he was bested, but bevause he almost felt a sadness during that moment.
His vessel wasn't meant to feel. It wasn't meant to laugh or cry or smile or anything like that. It was meant to force feed people Cereal into they liked it and turned the omniverse into Cereal.
The Cereal Man: I'm here for a ment of experi's. An emotional hypothesis of an intentional emotionless Cerealeing.
Undertaker: What?
The Cereal Man: CEREALOD-DANGIT!
Here my being is. A spirit. A golem. A machine whose only purpose is to furfill it's purpose and that purpose being solely directed upon the infection of all carbon based entities' skins and meats with the beautiful pandemic that is Cereal.
And here my body is! Feebly attempting to focus it's brainwaves on a homosapien who's only link to Cereal is a useless collection of names!
The undertaker's face recoiled, obviously shocked by the onslaught of nonsense that was thrown at him. Unfortunately for the gravetender, common manners dictated that he attempt to continue this excuse for a conversation.
Undertaker: Uh... well... I like names?
The Cereal Man: It's not this "name" wrench that is the verbal wrench in my cereal-absortption method of multiverse cerealtion. It's words. These 'words' are a decent form of transporting the greatness of Cereal in a verbal form, but it's also the home to distractions against the Cereal march. My Cereal Party is being bombarded with words and sentences to blind my bodie's brain to it's own goals.
Perhaps there's an easier way to spread my Cerealirus. Perhaps it's not the convertion of these mortal humans that my soul need a to ensure as reality but the elimination of them.
YES! I figured it out now! To destroy all emotional distractions I must eliminate the plants which emulate these uncerealated pollens of doubt! And then!
When my shell of skin is the sole representative of the cosmic bus that is humanities existence I shall hold all the control over the remote of all that is known to my carbon brain! And therefore he control over it's materials! And it's ionic weapons of eradification!
And then I shall insert this populace power into my meat of thought and command all that is human! AND WHEN I CONTROL THE HUMANS, I SHALL CONTROL WHAT THE HUMANS WANT!
AND YOU KNOW WHAT THIS BEING WANTS OH TAKER OF UNDERS?!
Undertaker: W- what?
The Cereal Man: I wanna wake up in a dimension where all existence doesn't exist. I wanna open my eyes of spirits and realise I have no eyes. Nor do I have spirits or consousness or even a shallow of feeling to ensure that I am at least aware of what used to be of existence and I wanna open my real eyes.
And see my paradise.
No death.
No life.
Only Cereal.
Naught but Cereal.
The Cereal Man had managed to let out a large amount of saliva during his rant. His sudden realisation taking his consciousness away from reality and into his alcohol corrupted mind.
Yet like a mental boomerang The Cereal Man was whipped back to reality and turned his neck like it's was a wooden automata and gazed into the soul of The Undertaker, who still had no idea what he was talking about and was fairly certain he was allowed to leave.
The undertaker slowly started to walk away it was stopped when an unexpected but large burst of wind bursted towards him.
The undertaker covered his face with his right arm to shield his face from the oncoming tsunami of wind.
A helicopter was slowly descending upon the pair at the graveyard. The Cereal Man barely blinked as the wind was fired past his face, he saw no reason to close his eyes, for his Cerealenses where much to powerful to be affected by the loss of sight.
Inside the helicopter was a man that fueled The Cereal Man with rage. The mere sight of him could force The Cereal Man into a Cerealenzy.
Normally you'd expect this to be a scar faces villain, a tyrannical, greedy, super-evil, portrayed by Tom Cruise bad guy with a cool looking scar and a leather jacket and the inability to tell anyone where he got the scar because then It's be less cool.
Instead it was the slightly more crazy, slightly more stupid, slightly more suprisingly resourceful and slightly more the exact opposite of Tom Cruise MMA Fighter: The Donut Guy.
The Donut Guy laughed maniacally and screamed down at The Cereal Man.
The Donut Guy: What's up The Cereal Man? Didn't expect to see me here? Well that's too bad be- OH WAIT! NONONO-!
A rocket flew into the propeller of the helicopter and The Donut Guy leaped out of the cockpit, still in regular MMA shorts, albeit with a parachute strapped around his back, presumably because he took a quick break from his job just to mess with The Cereal Man.
The Donut Guy pulled his parachute as the helicopter spazzamed out like a mechanical chicken with no head and a blown out back propeller and span away, exploding in the distance as The Donut Guy landed into the ground.
The Cereal Man threw his Rocket Launcher to the ground, said launchers origins being unknown but who cared at this point except for the police?
The undertaker's mind was blown. Like if a fly realised that all the giant things that it surrounded had entire books dedicated to what it did and they called his race Flies instead of whatever flies call themselves.
Undertaker: What in the...
The Cereal Man: Close your tongue infested mouth, mortal. It's not the time for words anymore. It's the time for action!
The Cereal Man started to sprint towards The Donut Guy with the fury of a Cereal Man when someone dislikes Cereal. The Donut Guy was still on the ground and managed to list the now flat parachute off of him.
The Donut Guy: WAIT!
The Cereal Man halted in his path and raised his nose in an animalistic snarl aimed at the Guy of Donuts. Such a snarl wouldn't be misplaced upon the face of a hungry hyena.
The Cereal Man hissed towards his downed foe.
The Cereal Man: What?
The Donut Guy: I sprained my ankle!
The Donut Guy's shout wasn't accompanied by malice or desperation. It was a plains shout. As if The Donut Guy was talking to a friend.
The Cereal Man: What?!
The Donut Guy: I Like- like I just fell on it badly and it hurts when I walk on it so like-
The Cereal Man: Seriously?!
The Donut Guy: Well- Y- yeah! Like I didn't mean to! But like-
The Cereal Man: But we had this whole thing! It was gonna be like a big fight!
The Donut Guy: W- I'm sorry, man. Like- I don't- You know what I can probably still do it, gimme a sec.
The Cereal Man: No, don't worry about it.
The Donut Guy: Nah it's ok, I- I- I just need to not put so much weight on it and then I'll be fine-
The Cereal Man: Don't! You'd just get hurt more! W- We- Hey! We can do it next week.
The Donut Guy: Really?
The Cereal Man: Yeah, no worries.
The Donut Guy: Ok..
...
I'm sorry this is all-
The Cereal Man: Nah, ma-
The Donut Guy: -My fault, I mean you had this all planned out and-
The Cereal Man: Don't worry about it man seriously, it's cool! No problem.
The Donut Guy: Is it?
The Cereal Man: Yeah of course, no worries.
The Donut Guy: ...Thanks, man.
The Cereal Man: Hey, don't be too hard on yourself. It was kinda my fault anyway, I didn't like warn you or anything, too quick on the draw I think.
The Donut Guy: Thanks man... That actually means a lot and shit. Like being an MMA fighter is proper stressful with the whole cutting weight thing. And like you kinda like fell like you're doing it alone so it's nice to have someone like understand you and shit.
The Cereal Man: Oh yeah, totally. Like the people at AW don't even talk to me and shit. It's kinda lonely. And they got proper issues like they're a lot of them just talk to themselves out of nowhere. Like- they're kinda naecicistic. They- They've got a lot of unhealthy traits, basically.
The Donut Guy: And they say you're weird!
The Cereal Man: Exactly! Ex- Exactly!
The Donut Guy: Yeah, this one time I was fighting some dude. And during the match I offered to give him a donut and he said "No" so I start force feeding him it. And everyone gives me these weird looks and shit and I'm like: "If you said yes I wouldn't-"
The Cereal Man: "Be force feeding you!" Yeah I get that all the time!
The Donut Guy: I know right! Why you guys looking at me like that?
The Cereal Man: Yeah! Say- Do you want like some Cereal or something? I have like a spare box in the trunk and I thought that you looked pretty hungry so like.
The Donut Guy: Thanks for the offer but no thanks. I just had a subway.
The Cereal Man: YOU IGNORANT, UNCOUTH NIMROOOOOD!!!
The Cereal Man sprinted towards The Donut Guy and kept upon the poor confused prey. Before beating his fa e with unbridled ferocity.
The Cereal Man: YOUR IGNORANCE SHALL BE PUNISHED BY THE ANGEL OF JUSTICE!! MY HANDS ARE JUST! MY CAUSE IS JUST! YOUR LIFE OF EVIL SHALL BE BLEACHED AWAY BY MY PHYSICAL SONG OF GOODNESS!!
The Cereal Man was stopped in his beating by a police officer who tackled him off The Donut Guy. The Cereal Man went to bite the police officers nose off and succeeded in acquiring a tight grip of the cops face. But was soon brought of by more police who had no doubt been called to stop the explosion.
Handcuffs were placed onto the Two Food Guys/Men and they were both dragged away to the surrounding police vehicles. Screaming about their respective food and how it was the key to humanities salvation.