Oatmeal

I went to the mart to buy some necessities. Food supply was running low in my dorm, and I have no one else to do the job of buying groceries for me, since I have opted for a single room. The reason for my choice? I merely wanted to watch porn in peace, without anyone bothering me.

The mall was not exactly full of people, but neither was it completely empty. It was probably due to the swelteringly hot weather outside. It seems that no one in the neighbourhood is fond of the summer, and they are justified for that thought. I let out a sneeze as I stepped into the air conditioned mall. Having the temperature set this low must have been an overkill.

Why was I here again? Ah, silly me, to buy some groceries, of course!

I stood there thinking about the reason for my trip to the mall for a brief while before proceeding to the produce section, shuffling my steps as I saw gazes directed towards me. Was I standing there for too long? It was not an important question as I found my mind quickly occupied with choosing what to buy. In fact, it was when I went to the part of the mall full of detergents and cleansing agents that I finally realised that I needed a shopping cart.

When I went to the oatmeal aisle, something quite amusing happened.

A bearded man, complete with a tuxedo and a top hat, approached me. The other customers seemed to not care, or even acknowledge his existence. This was quite weird, since he definitely stood out from the crowd, considering his outfit. I felt as if we were in a comedy show setting, and I am the only person who was uninitiated of it.

“Young man,” he said, with a voice that seemed to resonate throughout the entire complex. Was it just my mind playing tricks with me? Sure, he was audible, but it was not particularly loud. He was not screaming.

“Are you considering to buy some oatmeal?”

For whatever reason, he was oddly intimidating. It took me quite a while before I mustered up the courage to conjure up a response.

“Well, yes, I am. What exactly do you need from me?”

“Oh, I must apologise! What am I doing, asking a man in the oatmeal aisle whether he would like to buy some oatmeal? How foolish of me, I shall say.”

As he bowed down briskly, I stood there in stupor. Before I could realise what was going on and tell him that it was alright, he started his speech.

“You see, I would consider myself as an oatmeal connoisseur, and I would like to give you some advice on how to choose a good bag of oatmeal. After so many years of buying oatmeal for breakfast, I have devised a way, or dare I say, an algorithm that you may follow to obtain a satisfactory bag of goodness. It is very simple, really. One might not believe it, but there is a three step process to guarantee your bag of oatmeal is good.”

Some advice for oatmeal is quite unheard of, however it would not hurt to listen to what he has to say. He did not look like he was on his way to scam me, either. But just to be safe, I inquired him about the legitimacy of his intentions.

“Oh, no! I’m not asking for any money, in return for my wisdom! I merely wish to share with the world, the secrets of mine. I want to be of use in this society, by returning what I have borrowed. For your information, you are not the first one that will learn this secret, nor the last one. I have met quite a lot of other people like you, considering to purchase some fine oatmeal. Alas, not everyone is as enlightened as I am in choosing a bag of oatmeal like I am. Some people leave immediately without talking to me or hearing what I have to say, others listen to me and find satisfaction in life.”

His pride aside, I thought that it would be wise to ask him about his credentials for giving these kinds of advice.

“You see, how long have you been consuming oatmeal? Maybe two years? Or, even if unlikely, ten years. I pride myself in this habit of mine, or rather, this obsession of mine. I have been eating oatmeal every day for breakfast for thirty years now. It seems that there exists a voice in me that is telling me to continue this futile exercise. Why would I give up a certain degree of my autonomy just to appease that voice? I do not know – maybe I should get my mind checked. But, what I do know is that I have the choice of choosing which brand of oatmeal I could consume. Thus, I tried to devise a way to obtain maximum satisfaction from the oatmeal I buy, and it pleases me to say that I have succeeded. Say, young man, would you not trust the opinions of a veteran regarding his field of expertise? I might not have a college degree, but I can assure you that my opinions are at least valid.”

“Well, I’m convinced. Tell me the three ways, in a quick and succinct manner. I do not wish to stay here any longer, for I have… certain stuff to do after this.”

“Certainly, young man. However, I must warn you, that with your knowledge, you shall not look down of those plebeians who do not possess the necessary skills to weed out low quality oatmeal. If you do so, the knowledge that I have given you will be annulled.”

I was not sure of what he meant by that. He started walking towards the bags, and bent down to pick a bag from the lower aisles. It is still not clear whether he picked it deliberately, or if it was picked randomly. He had both of his hands hold the bag of oatmeal, and showed it to me, as if I was a child oblivious of the very nature of oatmeal.

“First and foremost, thou shall ensure that the oatmeal seems threatening.”

In retrospect, I should have questioned what he meant by the oatmeal being “threatening” in more concrete terms. However, strangely enough, I understood what he meant while he was beside me. I could see the bags glowing, some with an inviting green colour, others a blood red. I still was not sure why I did not question what I was seeing. Under normal circumstances, oatmeal bags do not glow. I could also sense the fangs coming out of those which were glowing in red, though those fangs do not seem to come from the mouth, but rather from another dimension that I could not even begin to describe. The faces on the oatmeal bags morphed into something nasty, with noses that went below the mouth, and limbs that came out of their eye sockets. Before I could see even more disturbing imagery, the man snapped me out of my delusion by continuing his speech.

“Do not worry about the threatening nature of the oatmeal, they do not pose any actual risks on one’s safety, so you could be well assured that they are safe to be consumed and brought back home. You didn’t think they could gobble you up, did you?”

I let out a nervous laugh. Then, I picked out a bag of oatmeal that glowed red before.

“Onto the second point, thou shall ensure that the bag of oatmeal is of great mass.”

Well, the bag of oatmeal certainly felt heavy. I suppose that is valid advice, since one could say the heavier the bag, the greater the contents in it, the more value you get for your buck. Although, aren’t all oatmeal packed in bags by machines? The weight of each bag should be the same, and there should not be any difference in mass between all of the bags. As valid as this argument goes, I thought, back then, that there was no point in thinking about these kinds of petty stuff.

“Finally, onto the third point. Thou shall slap the bag of oatmeal.”

I raised my hand, preparing to give a firm slap to the bag, without truly processing what the man had said. Before I landed my hand on the bag, I stopped my hand and turned to him.

“Slap the bag of oatmeal?”

“Indeed. Slap it.”

“What could the purpose of this, forgive me, seemingly futile action? What am I evaluating based on this slap? I desire a definite and unambiguous explanation of the meaning of this.”

What was I supposed to look for with this slap? Was it to evaluate the density of the bag of oatmeal? It seems that that would not make a difference, since the amount of oatmeal present in the bag has already been confirmed before, during the second step. Knowing the density of oatmeal would not be a factor of why I chose a certain bag of oatmeal over another.

Was it to evaluate the quality of the oatmeal? Certainly not! How could the quality of the contents in the bag be determined by a mere slap! The only, and most direct way of determining the quality is to try it myself. It would be so much easier if there was a sample around here, for me to make informed decisions of my purchase. Then again, it would not allow me to end up with a definite conclusion, since the sample is almost definitely taken from another batch of oatmeal, and has been left there for days.

Was it to evaluate the texture of the oatmeal? The texture of the oatmeal is without a doubt an integral part of whether it would taste good. I could see why with slapping the bag one could have some insight regarding the characteristics of the oatmeal – maybe it’s a little bit hard, or it is quite crunchy. However, one would need a lot of experience before they could make certain conclusions based on merely one slap.

Why was I so worked up about the thought of slapping the bag, when I have not questioned about anything that has happened prior to this?

“Young man, I am quite surprised by this inquiry. You are probably the only one who has raised this question in all these years. However, worry not. I can assure you that you will know the meaning behind this action soon enough, when you carry out the deed yourself.”

There was no way of confirming it without doing it. I raised my hand yet again and slapped the bag of oatmeal.

SLAP!!!

The slap was not particularly loud, nor did I exert a lot of force, but just like the voice of the man, it resonated all around the complex. For me, at least.

Silence ensued.

I was about to dismiss the situation after that. Maybe I was being pranked by someone, who was secretly hiding behind the scenes, holding a camera while snickering about my absurd behaviour. Just as I was about to put the bag back to its original place and leave, I was stopped by something.

The bag of oatmeal is not of good quality.

For whatever reason, the thought just came into my mind. It was not a voice, but a visceral feeling that the oatmeal I slapped was not good enough. There was not anything proving that the oatmeal was bad, it was just some intuition that I had all of a sudden. I looked at the man, and he was smiling at me, as if a guru has given all his knowledge to his disciples, while holding his bag of oatmeal.

I put the bag of oatmeal that I chose back to its place. It felt as if I would throw up if I held the bag any longer. Then, I darted to another bag which was glowing red just now, and picked it up.

Was the bag of oatmeal threatening? Yes.

I held it with both of my arms. It was as heavy as the last one that I picked.

Was the bag of oatmeal heavy? Yes.

Yet again, I raised my hand again, ready to slap the bag. My hand landed on the bag with maximum velocity. This time, my intuition made a different conclusion.

Was the bag of oatmeal good? Yes.

“Now, I shall go. I will leave you with your own devices. It seems that you have understood everything that I wanted to let you know. Again, you shall not look down onto those who are ignorant, but show them the way as well. Everyone deserves to be enlightened by the three steps.”

He walked away, with the bag of oatmeal in his hands. I was still not quite sure what had happened, but I was sure that I was holding a good bag of oatmeal. The man was certainly quite peculiar with his top hat, but he had nothing but good intentions. When I looked at the aisle of oatmeal again, some of the bags were definitely threatening, but they do not glow as vividly as before. It seems that I have gained an intuition due to unconventional circumstances. 

I went to the cashier to make the purchases and exited the premises. Heat washed over me as I left the air conditioned mall. It was still hot as before. I started my car and drove away, feeling oddly content about the whole exchange. I do not even consume oatmeal often, but it felt that I should maybe have it regularly. Time to enjoy the rest of my day with a wank.