Boboy Tony's house was just like him; the outside seemed small and rickety, an unassuming alter-ego while the walls inside, overcome by the decades of drawings he had produced, were overcome by his imagination. Behind framings of his most illustrious stories, Boboy had painted his favorite heroes and monsters on the walls to run free and battle, in total disregard for the boundaries of the room.
To the uninitiated, the room had a vertiginous effect - but Daryl and Scott were no mere mortals. They could cite every hero, villain and sidekick, along with their first appearance, secret identities, significant others, and most prevalent superpowers (depending on the decade.) To them, this house was a shrine, that held an entire universe within. Scott began to feel overwhelmed; he rubbed his eyes and searched for something to focus on. His eyes rested on a 50-year-old cereal box.
"That is the most important thing I ever drew," Boboy said, answering their unspoken question. He put down the drinking glasses and took his place at the drafting table. "Is it alright if I sit here? This is where I'm comfortable, especially with company."
Daryl, holding the interview mic, silently nodded with glee. "Are you taking requests?"
Scott patted his shoulder, reeling Daryl back in. "Mr Tony, please tell us about the cereal. I don't think I've ever heard of it."
As Boboy began to draw, he told the story. "It only came out one year - '64, maybe '65. I was in the Army corps, but I never saw combat. I drew and designed safety posters, promotional materials - a comic strip for the base bulletins... I was stationed in Kunsan the year there was this real bad flu epidemic. It caught everyone by surprise. But some doctors figured out that a certain food additive could inhibit the disease, so the military was very interested in getting this food additive out into the local populace quickly.
"The additive was blue dye - like they put in berry blends juices to mask the apple juice. But they couldn't make blue color versions of any of the local food, and expect anyone to eat it. They didn't have enough blueberries to make blueberries popular. And someone suggested breakfast cereal - children could eat blue breakfast cereal, with enough sugar to cover the taste.
"So I made the Blue Crisp-" and Boboy stopped for a moment, to study his old friend. "He was funny and strong, and told kids they could be strong too, if they had their breakfast. We made the cereal and one commerical. And it worked very well. Even the other soldiers liked to eat it, because it didn't taste like MREs. And our part of the country was the only one without any flu deaths that winter.
"Unfortunately, the same doctors that found out this additive was good for stopping the flu learned that this same additive, in large doses, might cause lupus. So they quietly stopped making the Blue Crisp - two years later, he returned as the Crisp, brown like grain, and a slight fish flavor; they liked it out there...
"About five years ago, they did a health check in the region for lupus, and didn't find any signs, so they declassified the project ahead of schedule. They gave me that-" he pointed to a ceremonial medal in a display case, next to a folded American flag. "-but they won't bring the cereal back."
"That's a shame, sir," Scott replied. "I can't imagine it being any more harmful than any of the cereals we ate growing up- right, Daryl?"
Daryl, caught red-handed, set the cereal box down.
inspired by Discover Magazine article, "Race Against H7N9"
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