Chapter 5

Sometime following his Froot Loop dinner, Jeffrey began to think. Not your run of the mill, "I wonder what wallets would think if they were sentient beings", offhanded thoughts. No, a deep slumber of thought. He pondered his humble beginnings growing up in this house. The seemingly endless, although nearly unnoticeable, transition from year to year. He wondered how warped his memories of this house have become. Had there always been linoleum in the kitchen? How old was the dual toned paint job (split effectively by a single strip of flowered wallpaper border)? Just as these simple, but oddly bothering, thoughts seemed to percolate, his mind wandered to himself as a child.

Jeffrey was born into a not so average family, in an average house, in a very average small town. Shortly after Jeffrey's birth, Marie, and her then husband Charles, decided it was time to move on from the redundant ins and outs of Dunmovin, California, and journey into the hustle and bustle. Growing up in a not so average family, in an average house, in the city, Jeffrey was a very average child, although one with an odd passion for cereal. Jeffrey discovered cereal at the age of 8, a few years behind most his age, and ran with it, never really looking back. At first it was more the texture, than the taste, of cereal that enveloped him. The slight slurp of milk, followed ever so beautifully by that enrapturing crunch, touched Jeffrey in a way nobody will ever fully understand.

Remembering these lustful first few bites brought more than just a smile to Jeffrey. Yet, as his blood really began to course, he was sent hurtling back into reality, somewhat rudely Jeffrey thought, by his mothers yell from the front hall. "Jeffiekins, there is a man here to talk to you."