MY OATMEAL ATTACKED ME

My oatmeal attacked me this morning. It can't really be blamed. I think I provoked it. First, I ripped open its home(the packet) with arrogant disdain. Then, seeing my oatmeal had colonized itself into a higher organization(a hard brick of sugar in the shape of one corner of the packet) I proceeded to crush it between my fingers, sure that my superior intellect was more than a match for this little life form. This was my first mistake.

My oatmeal fought back by exploding all over the counter. This was probably the colonial oatmeal version of a fight or flight response. 'If you can't save the colony, save some of its members by flinging them away from danger'.

Having quelled said response by sweeping all the fleeing granules into my bowl, I opened the second packet. Apparently agitated by the brutalization of its sister packet, this one exploded upon opening. Perhaps this response included a mood-enhancing agent in the mixture, because I started laughing. Unfortunately for the oatmeal, this was only a temporary solution. Gathering the oatmeal for its ultimate purpose, I drowned it with water and cooked it in the microwave.

Thinking my victory complete, I ran a quick errand while I let my microwave minion finish the job.

Returning to the place of my oatmeal's demise, I found that somewhere in its life my oatmeal had read Herman Melville's Moby Dick. For with its very action, it embodied the semi-famous quote, "To the last, I grapple with thee; From Hell's heart, I stab at thee; For hate's sake, I spit my last breath at thee." It had boiled over, soiling the microwave and making a mess of of my bowl in the midst of its death throes. And when I removed the lid, the steam bit me.

I can understand the desire for self-preservation, but did it really have to be vindictive?