I pull the bowl from the cupboard and set it onto the kitchen counter. I listen to the coffee dripping into the pot behind me as I wonder if it should be a "bowlboard" since only bowls occupy the space. Perhaps a question to be answered after the sleep is removed from my eyes or more drunk. I grab the cereal from the panty -- Trix -- as I silently curse the children from the commercials for a lifetime of shame for eating something for kids and treating that rabbit so cruelly. I pour them into the bowl reminiscing on the excitement of a toy falling out of the box into my bowl, but then remember capitalism disregarded happiness for profit. I slide across the kitchen to fetch the milk hoping that I have enough. I lift the carton and feel substantial weight and sigh in relief. I turn around to return to my bowl and find it missing. There is movement from the corner of my eye. A white blur crashes through the glass of the sliding glass door, bowl in hand. That damn rabbit. Maybe the kids were right.