Horace’s day began like any other.

The alarm clock awoke him at 7:15 like the scream of 1000 banshees. He quickly turned it off.

Horace put his two atypically large feet onto the gelid and icy floor. He took his first two steps of the day down the moderately sized suburban houses hallway towards the bathroom.

Once there, Horace turned the freezing shower water on. Braving the cold, he lathered, rinsed and repeated rather dully for the appropriate number of cycles. After that fiasco, he dried off and went back down the dark hallway towards his breakfast of monoton-o’s and peaches.

While slurping down his cereal, Horace pondered death.  Specifically, Horace wondered what the chances were of him choking on any one of the small, tasteless, bran circles.

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