Edd’s MANtra: Reunion with Count Chocula

October is a special month for me. Not only is it my birthday month (Oct. 28, ugh, I’m getting old*), many of my friends, including my brother, were also born this month and it’s my parents’ anniversary too. It’s also the month Javacia was nearly killed by a moron, but that’s another story.


If you followed me on Twitter last year, you probably remember me spending most of October obsessing over cereal. Not Keith Sweat, not ties, not Slurpees, cereal.


Every year around Halloween, General Mills re-releases one of my most prized possessions from childhood: Count Chocula, Frankenberry and Boo Berry. If you haven’t tasted the magic for yourself, just envision a monster-themed Lucky Charms. Except WAY better.


But the for some reason, tracking down the Count and his diabetes-causing cousins is next to impossible in Birmingham. Last year, my peeps from Va had to ship me a few boxes (shout out to Karie).  I’d be more likely to tear the plastic off of my new copy of Detox than to tear into a bowl of Frankenberry.


But that all changed last Saturday, when fate smiled upon me.


I’m talking about the cereal, not the album. Y’all know Detox will nevaaaaaaaaaaa be released.


Saturday morning, while the wifey was off bonding with her small group during her church’s women’s conference, I dragged myself to the god-forsaken abyss that is Walmart. The lamp in our bedroom conked out weeks ago and I was sick of stumbling around in complete darkness after 7:30 p.m. Y’all know it’s getting darker earlier these days and my eyesight is getting worse in my old age. I have a birthday coming up after all. Anyway, after putting it off for weeks I went to Walmart to get a new lamp.


While I was there, I remembered that it was time for Count Chocula n’ friends to make an appearance, so I futilely checked Walmart’s cereal aisle. I bore witness to a lot of bizarre cereal (Fruit Pebble Boulders? Cocoa Puff Brownies???) but I couldn’t find my prize. I turned my attention to the lamp I needed. I found a decent one but because Walmart is the size of four aircraft carriers (or one Rick Ross) couldn’t find light bulbs. I just gave up and headed to the checkout. After standing in the “express lane” for approximately four hours, I finally left. Quick note to you shoppers: If you have a motorized cart filled with crap AND your caregiver has both her arms filled with your junk, don’t get in the express lane. I dislike Walmart.


Since I had monsters on the brain, I swung by Publix to see if they had the delicious cereal. If you’re not familiar with Publix, it’s a great grocery chain. And by great, I mean obscenely expensive. I walked down the cereal aisle and saw a box of Honey Nut Cheerios on sale for like $37.99. I had to pick up the box to make sure it really wasn’t a gigantic Xbox game. I hit the door faster than Busta Rhymes working as an auctioneer. If they had Count Chocula at Publix, I’ll never know.


I stopped by the inlaws’ house to get the latest gossip and soon remembered that I still had to pick up light bulbs. My mother-in-law said I needed to get ’em from Walmart Neighborhood Market – which is essentially a raggedy little grocery store with Walmart’s logo slapped on it. She also assured me that not only are the light bulbs cheap (my favorite word next to “free”) but that I would probably find my cereal there.


Now I’m not a big fan of Walmart but I absolutely abhor Neighborhood Market. I’ve only been there a handful of times and there is always an incident. Saturday’s incident: A woman literally yelling at a self-checkout scanner that wouldn’t take a coupon for the stupid $1.79  bottled soda that she wanted. I almost gave her the 13 cents that the coupon saved her just to shut her up. But then I’d have to talk to her, and that wasn’t happening. By the way, I didn’t find my cereal.


By now, it was about 7:30 p.m. and getting pretty dark. I needed to head home because we old folks don’t drive well at night. I have a birthday coming up, after all.* Defeated and feeling like Ortiz after a Mayweather fight, I stopped by Walgreens to grab some Lemonheads to ease my pain. I headed to the candy aisle and what did I see?

The sky opened up and the angels sang a sweet hymn (Actually, they were playing Mary J. Blige’s “Love Is All We Need” over the speakers, but close enough). I grabbed a bunch of boxes like a psycho mom on Black Friday and headed to the cashier. The cashier, who was probably about 15 and thinks Wiz Khalifa is the greatest rapper of all time, looked at the boxes, then me, and said: “You must like this stuff, huh?” Now normally I would chokeslam the guy through the counter, but I was in too good of a mood to be brought down. He then said “I’ve never heard of this stuff. Is it good?” I replied “It’s a symphony of breakfast delight.” He just gave me a crazy look (probably cuz he is often confused by big works like “symphony” and “breakfast”) and off I went with my prize.


Forget the haters, because I dined like a king:

I love October. Except the getting old part. I have a birthday coming up, after all.*


*Proofreading note: You also get repetitive when you get old, I guess.