Why the Hell are you Eating Frosted Flakes for Dinner?

Last night my wife went for a run while she waited for our son to finish basketball practice. My daughter and I in turn played tennis, and then took the dog for a walk. By the time we were done it was 730pm. it was decided that dinner would consist of yesterday's favorites (how I sell leftovers to the kids).

I chose a wonderful slice of Piatti's calzone. A sliver of what once was, a mere 800 calories left to consume. I burn that easily on my morning commute right? Therefore, my perceived caloric burn rate (actual + 500 calories) would not be satisfied with such a measly meal.

I decided to supplement my calzone with a healthy dose of Frosted Flakes. As I proceeded to annihilate my little flakey friends
, a tiny flake sucked directly into my wind pipe, lodging itself successfully deep within. He saved the rest of his friends from digestion as I had a major coughing fit. As the Giant in "Jack the Giant Slayer" choked on the tiny bean, I did my own re-enactment as I struggled with the tiny flake. I headed to the garage to minimize any damage as I flung my arms around. Each cough hurt more than the last. My rib cage complained with each outrageous grunt I could muster, until finally 5 minutes later I managed to dislodge the sugar coated flake from hell. 

Finally, the fight was over. I looked around to see who could have inflicted such damage. My chest felt like it just got repeatedly pummeled. The ability to take a full breath was but a distant memory as any attempt at it most certainly meant even more pain as my lungs tried to expand the protective reflexes of the muscles (or fat) surrounding my rib cage. 

My family feeling pity for meet let me recover as I sat peacefully on the couch - watching American Pickers negotiate with unsuspecting collectors. No bikes being picked, bummer.

After exchanging messages with my doctor how I lost the fight with Tony the Tiger, he tells me that I likely only have a soft tissue injury to my chest wall, and to suck it up for several weeks. Bryan on the other hand had more practical advice by scolding me with "What the hell were you doing eating Frosted Flakes last night?!". "Don't judge", I replied. "After all, I paired the flakes with low fat milk".