“Dispatch, you’re not going to believe this,” said the officer, staring at the scene in front of him. He was parked at the back of a long line of traffic, unable to move in any direction.
“Try me,” prompted the dispatcher, slumping over her desk, tired after a long series of calls about a disturbance at the local mall’s food court.
“It appears that Third Street is completely blocked,” began the officer.
“So?” asked the dispatcher. “Third Street is blocked all the time.”
“Main and Broadway are blocked as well.”
“So what’s blocking the block?” asked the dispatcher, now more interested, “What’s big enough to stop traffic on Main and Broadway at the same time?”
“It’s not something big,” said the officer, “it’s something small, but there’s a lot of it.”
“What do you mean, something small?” asked the dispatcher. “It’s half a mile long!”
“And five feet high,” continued the officer. “It appears that someone has collected on the grand prize in the charity raffle.”
“The grand prize?” asked the dispatcher, the horrific realization bubbling to the top of her mind. “You don’t mean…”
“Shredded Wheat?” asked the officer. “Unfortunately, that’s exactly what I mean. The street is full of Shredded Wheat, blocking all traffic and causing the worst slowing that I’ve ever seen.”
“Do you know who’s responsible for the spill?” asked the dispatcher, “because when this gets in the newspaper tomorrow morning and the police have no suspects, the chief will have an aneurysm!”
“I’m already on it,” confirmed the officer, having just stepped out of his squad car and begun to climb through the maze of traffic. He wove his way through the stopped cars, assuring the angry drivers that he was there to investigate the situation. They cleared what path they could, allowing him to continue his progress toward the enormous mountain of shredded wheat that towered above him.
Meanwhile, in a clear area in the center of the lake of shredded wheat, Mr. Choy lay on the pavement, wondering why his housemates had no sense of pattern recognition. “If there wasn’t a bowl in the first ten boxes,” he thought, “why in the world did they have to open all ten thousand?!”
Without realizing it, he yelled these last few words toward the sky. “Well, we weren’t sure if all of the boxes were the same as the first few,” said the first mushroom.
“We kind of started to wonder after we had opened most of them if there was a bowl inside,” the other continued, “but we figured that it was one of those really unlikely prize things.”
“Like the time I found a plastic spoon in my cornflakes,” finished the first.
“I have news for you,” fumed Mr. Choy, “You will never find a bowl in a box of shredded wheat!”
“Never?” the first mushroom asked. “There’s got to be a bowl in there. There’s a bowl on the front!”
“No, there is never a bowl in a box of Shredded Wheat. They do not put bowls in the boxes of shredded wheat,” annunciated Mr. Choy. He was having a great deal of difficulty in maintaining his temper, but found that the sharp pains in his sides prevented him from screaming or getting up to clobber the mushrooms.
“Sir, do you know the origin of this cereal?” asked the officer, reaching the edge of the cleared pavement.
“It’s my cereal from the charity auction Grand Prize,” began Mr. Choy, “but how it got in the street…”
“And you are?” asked the officer, cutting off Mr. Choy mid-sentence.
“Mr. Bok Choy, officer,” answered Mr. Choy. “But this…”
“If it’s your cereal, then you’re the vegetable I’ve been looking for,” interrupted the officer, removing a pair of handcuffs from his belt. “You, Mr. Bok Choy, are under arrest for creating a disturbance of the peace and three counts of blocking traffic.”
“Three?” asked Mr. Choy, incredulous.
“Three,” answered the officer. “One for blocking Third Street, one for blocking Main Street, and one for blocking Broadway. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
The officer lifted Mr. Choy to his feet and began to direct him toward his patrol car, continuing, on the way, to read him his rights.
To be continued…
