Another Inappropriately Descriptive Malt-O-Meal Post

I’m eating Malt-O-Meal again. It is chocolate flavored and makes me whole.

Eating this Malt-O-Meal is a wonderful experience. It is like savoring a warm spoonful of nostalgia and calcium phosphate. With mechanical precision I eagerly begin my feast upon the creamy wheat essence; my eyes are staring into the middle distance and my is torso positioned firmly at a slightly acute angle. Each mound of granular brown paste greets my eager lips with a quiver of welcoming before it is quickly smothered and devoured by my ample flesh-hole. The steaming Malt-O-Meal is then swallowed down into my body’s nether-regions never to be seen again until it gets blasted out defecation alley on Christmas morning.

Can you see that my lust for Malt-O-Meal is both beautiful and perverse? It is only in this unnatural entangling that my soul finds repose. Only the sweet sating of an engorged belly bloated with thick cereal sludge and water chestnuts can end my existential agony.

Thank you, Malt-O-Meal, for being there for me. Thank you for filling my mouth time and again with such sweet shame. Thank you for being so delicious that you make Cream of Wheat taste like a bum’s diseased scrotum.

I love you, chocolate Malt-O-Meal. I want to enter a long, abusive relationship with you. I want you to make me feel like garbage night after night with your emotional abuse. I will forgive you. You just taste so damn good.