Fezzik In Paris

Two Americans, three cats, and too many places named "de Gaulle"

It is probable that, if asked, the Purrito would state that I have the palate of a child. Were I in said room, I would protest that I don’t have the palate of a child, and would proceed to flail in the argument until, in desperation, that I don’t know any kids that like wine, foie gras, or (to reach back before our time in France) kimchi.

So perhaps I have the palate of un enfant terrible.

I’ve found myself dismayed the past few days as the Franprix down the street, with which we’re initimately acquainted owing to rate at which three ungrateful furballs use litter, no longer carries Lucky Charms cereal bars. Said cereal bars, effectively mass-produced rice crispies bars (complete with the attendant bizarre material properties) slapped on a hard white frosting bottom that is supposed to remind the consumer of milk, appeared out of nowhere on the shelves of Franprix sometime in late November. It is alleged by the Purrito that this coincided perfectly with a sweet-consumption cycle, an allegedly cyclical pattern in which I decide I like a sweet, she purchases said sweets, and everything is allegedly fine until she randomly buys box n of said sweet, at which point I allegedly declare that I don’t like said sweet anymore, and that there are no more geep treats in the flat. Allegedly. An alternate interpretation could be that said Lucky Charms bars are compact, contain (way more than) enough sugar to fend off the low-blood-sugar headaches, and thus simply became my jam. I admit that I had, stupidly, retained a bit of optimism that there was just a supply hiccup when the Purrito told me that there were no more Lucky Charms bars to be had. I had a reserve sufficient for Malta, and they’d probably sell through the yawn-inducing abominations known as Reese’s peanut butter cups (king size), and then the Lucky charms would return.

Alas, despite repeated trips to Franprix (I find myself numbed at the mining activities that are taking place somewhere on behalf of our cats) which confirmed that the stock of Reese’s was dwindling, the empty box was replaced by more fucking peanut butter cups.

I suppose that I have seen boxes of Poptarts…

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