The Cheerios Incident

WC 740

The Cheerios Incident

By Jack Rawlins

“Patrick, why are you putting a handful of Cheerios in your pocket?”

“They're my breakfast, Mom. I'm going for a hike. And these are cargo pants. The Cheerios are cargo.”

“That's gross! Are you going to pour milk in there, too?”

“Mom, they don't call it dry cereal for nothing. I like them dry. It’s like a trail mix without all the other goop.”


“I thought you were going to take a trip to the gym the way you always do on Saturday. What changed your mind? Or should I say, ‘Who’ changed your mind?”

“Coleen.”

"Oh, Coleen. You mean the Coleen who dresses like a hooker? You mean the Coleen with all the tattoos? You mean the Coleen with the noisy toe-cleats and red heels… the six-inch red heels? The Coleen with the dirty mouth? You mean pin-cushion Coleen, the Body Piercing Studio’s biggest customer? Is that the Coleen you mean?”

Mom, cut it out. How can you be so critical? Besides, I know you have a tat on your tummy. I’ve seen you in spike heels. And I’ve heard you cuss at Dad, dumb drivers, and broken dishes. Hey, nobody’s perfect. I get the impression you just don’t like Coleen.”

“Patrick, it's not an impression. It's true. I do not like Coleen.And anyway, I’m thirty-six and I have a right to a few little imperfections. But Coleen is only sixteen. If she has already picked up a bushel of imperfections, what will she be like when she’s my age?

“And another thing…I’d like to know: is this a group outing or are just the two of you going to go off to hide in the bushes somewhere?”

“Mom! Cut it out. Coleen’s not that kind of girl.”

“Well, Son, she’s fooled the hell out of me so far. I bet she is too ‘that’ kind of girl.
And I don’t want you wandering around in the woods with her and a pocket-full of Cheerios for breakfast.”

“Momma, Momma, Momma. Stop already. You’re being unreasonable. It’s a pretty day. She text-messaged me and suggested a hike”.

“Oh sure. She’s suggestive alright.”

“Mom, why don’t you like her?”

“I just gave you half a dozen reasons why I don’t like her. You want more?”

“I just want you to be fair, Mom. Badmouthing a girl you hardly know is not being fair.”

“Oh, fair? Fair? Running away from home with some little floozy and a pocket full of Cheerios…Is that fair to me?”

“Mother! For God’s sake! I’m not running away from home. I’m gong for a walk with a pretty girl on a pretty day. Did you ever go for a walk with a guy on a pretty day like this? Did your parents hassle you about your choice of friends?

“I’ll tell you what, Mom. Get a pocket full of Cheerios and come with us.”

“You don’t really mean that. I can’t stand the thought of Coleen with her tongue stud stuck through the middle of a Cheerio. But I’ll tell you what I will do: Invite the little strumpet over for tea and scones. I’ll pack a picnic lunch for both of you.”

”Mom. You just don’t get it. Everything doesn’t have to be planned. Everything doesn’t have to be done your way. I should be allowed to change my mind. I should be allowed to pick my friends. “

“Okay, Mr. Patrick Timothy O’Leary-- I can change my mind, too! Tell Coleen to get her little ass over here and I promise I’ll be sweet as honey and treat her like a lady—but she probably wouldn’t know what that is.

“Do it for me Patrick. Please?”

“Come on, Mom, if I fart around here all morning it will be time for dinner before we get moving.”

“Patrick, please?”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll text her. If she says ‘Yes,’ it’s a deal.”

“Patrick, you’re going to wear out your thumbs with that tapetty-tap before you’re seventeen. Why don’t you phone her? Never mind. I can tell by your smirk she already answered; Well?”

“She said, ‘Yes. Your mom is hot.’”

“What the hell does she mean, ‘Hot’?”

“Mom, that’s like pretty. Sexy. Classy. Cool and nice.”

“Oh? Well, tell the little darling to come right over. I’ll treat her like Lace-Curtain Irish while I fix you lovely young people a nice picnic basket-- to go with your Cheerios.

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