On Thursday, Sept. 14, authorities responded to reports of shots fired at the house of Sonny, the beloved Cocoa Puffs mascot.
An emptied shotgun lay next to the bird along with a hastily scrawled suicide note featuring the emo-tastic last words of ""There's nothing left in this world.""
The bird's neighbors, the Keebler Elves, said he always seemed like such a quiet and happy mascot. They never expected this tragic fate.
Paramedics pronounced him dead at the scene at 9:21 a.m.
The preceding statements might come as a surprise to many, because Sonny was seen happily gallivanting around with children whilst munching on the breakfast cereal that begot him his name.
This was true, until he encountered me.
Like many others, I used to love Sonny and his chocolate-esque wonders that he always pimped out. When I was younger, not a Saturday morning would pass where I didn't have the remarkable cereal.
Then something happened, something horrible. Twenty-two-year-old Kevin came clashing into 9-year-old Kevin when I recently had a bowl of Cocoa Puffs, much to my dismay.
The cereal did not taste good.
In fact, it tasted downright awful. Imagine little balls of cardboard-tasting suck placed in a bowl of milk and that's still better than my journey to the so-called land of chocolate.
For some reason I just could not get into the appetizing mix of sugar, beet juice concentrate and BHT (for freshness) that I could when I was younger.
I loudly voiced my disapproval to the box. The cartoon of Sonny just stared me back, mocking me.
It seemed to say, ""Yes, these are Cocoa Puffs, and they are quite good. So good in fact, that I think I might possibly be... cuckoo for them.""
I would not stand for this insubordination, but I think I crossed the line when I physically separated the cartoon head from the cartoon body.
The shockwaves from that action—while not voodoo-tastic—still must have had its effect on Sonny and sent him into his depression that lead to his untimely end.
But as I grow older, I've noticed the things that brought joy to my childhood no longer do. When I was younger, I could not get enough of Power Rangers, Nerf Toys, Black Tar Heroin, Legos and WWF wrestling.
I always wanted to be a Toys ""R"" Us kid forever and not just because of the catchy song. That store always seemed to have the coolest of things and I could get lost in it forever.
Recently, I wandered into a Toys ""R"" Us, expecting to relive old memories. However, my memory didn't recall the place is actually a warehouse, and a bland warehouse too.
The endless aisles of toys were actually just a few rows of toys nobody could care about—unless you really want a solid gold encrusted ""Dora the Explorer"" doll that comes in at the bargain price of $99.95.
Now after squawking his last ""I'm cuckoo for suicide,"" Sonny is gone, and he'll probably bring much of my deadened childhood with him—Geoffrey the Giraffe will murder-suicide Captain Planet who had previously knifed Zack Morris and the Olson Twins.
