The Breakfast Table Massacre

 

You wouldn’t believe I’m a killer,
As to look at me you’d never guess.
That I’m actually a ruthless maniac,
It’s something I’ve got to confess.

You see my breakfast table every morning,
Is the scene of my many crimes.
It’s where I commit my foul murders,
Among the gingham table-cloth lines.

My anger starts when I see the packets,
Their happy coloured pictures rile me.
My hatred rises and rises,
And triggers my breakfast killing spree.

I start with the Shredded Wheat
I smother them in milk and then,
Press them down into the liquid,
And they are never seen again.

I then turn on the Weetabix,
I like to cover them in sugar.
Then crush them into little bits,
So they’re unrecognisable to their mothers.

Then I single out my cornflakes,
And flick them around the room.
My eager evil fingers,
Send them flying to their doom.

Rice Krispies are my least favourite,
With their snap, crackle and pop.
I break them in half slowly,
While they beg me to stop.

My neighbours are getting worried,
As every day I scream with delight.
And shout “death to all cereal,”
So they called 999 the other night.

But when the Police arrive,
They find me with just a cup of tea.
You see they’ll never get a conviction
As I’ve eaten the evidence you see.

So when my name is mentioned,
All breakfast stuff starts to shiver.
They’re worried I’ll pay them a visit,
Me, the ultimate cereal killer.