Cheerios
A Black Hole High Fanfiction
Now he's retired from teaching, now it's been more than twenty years since he was at Blake Holsey High with the Science Club, with wild Josie Trent – both his most challenging and most rewarding pupil – Noel Zachary's life has fallen into routine.
He doesn't mind the predictability, the monotony. He basks in it. It's kind of nice to wake up each day and know you're probably, most likely, not going to get sucked into a wormhole by its end. His rubber-soled 'old man' shoes take the same path from the bedroom to the kitchen in his apartment every morning – a trail in the dust when he's forgotten to clean, a squeak on the lemon-scented polish when he hasn't (the latter is not a common occurrence). He eats his Cheerios daily from the same off-white bowl with the chipped rim, takes a water-spotted spoon from the drawer that sticks just a bit, and reads a book (usually it's Science, but not always, even he has hobbies) while facing the window-light that keeps his houseplants alive.
It's sometimes like he's a pale houseplant himself, leaning towards it instinctively.
Then one day, something is amiss.
The routine is interrupted.
There's no box of Cheerios on the counter by the ceramic jar that's – inexplicably – shaped like a mushroom, even though that's where he always leaves it.
He discovers the empty yellow-and-red box in the trashcan full of Mars Bars wrappers and redundant junk mail that really could – should – have been an email or a social media post.
When did he finish it?
No matter.
Outside, the sun hides behind a cloud as it starts to drizzle.
The man who was Professor Z puts on his coat – a tweed thing not actually very useful in wet weather, though he has got a proper rain-hat and an umbrella with him, too, not being completely hopeless – and steps out to trek the five blocks to the corner store.
Once there, he peruses the cereal aisle for a good ten minutes before asking the clerk for help – he can't find Cheerios anywhere.
Maybe, he thinks, they've been moved.
"No regular Cheerios – the truck hasn't come in yet – but I think we've got some Honey Nut over here."
Noel grimaces as his stomach twists into knots. Suddenly he's not real hungry. "Uh... No, thanks." He hasn't eaten honey – or anything with honey in it – since the day in 2003 the football team kidnapped him and encased him in the stuff in the basement.
Apart from his indulgence in Mars Bars, he's lost his taste for sweets almost entirely.
"I've just decided I'm going to start eating oatmeal." Plain, unflavored, hearty oatmeal. He picks up a box from a corner display. And if this doesn't work out, I'm switching to toast. "About time for change, wouldn't you say?"