I Ate Real 'Rick and Morty' Cereal and Children Didn't Murder Me

But I still feel like death.

Tophat Jones is very pleased with himself, and soon you can be too.

You don’t actually get disemboweled by children like poor old Tophat Jones when you eat Strawberry Smiggles, but if you’re like me, you’ll probably wish you could get it out of your stomach that quickly.

Originating in the Season 1 Interdimensional Cable episode of Rick and Morty, “Rixty Minutes,” Strawberry Smiggles appears in a TV commercial from an alternate reality. An unsettling cross between Trix and Lucky Charms marketing, Strawberry Smiggles has a mascot named Tophat Jones that likewise looks like a crude fusion of the Trix rabbit and Lucky the Leprechaun. Unfortunately for Tophat, after he gobbles up all of the Smiggles, violent children with blank stares emerge from the forest and rip those chunks of cereal right out of his intestinal tract. Yikes

Much like the strange McDonald’s Szechuan sauce obsession, Strawberry Smiggles probably comes from Rick and Morty co-creator Justin Roiland’s fascination with commercial products. Most Interdimensional Cable bits are Roiland’s unscripted ramblings that are later refined and animated. (That’s why Tophat stumbles through his monologue.) Among the large catalog of Interdimensional short clips, Strawberry Smiggles among the most memorable — and disturbing:

When FYE announced they’d be selling a real-life version of the cereal, I grew eager to test my mettle against the army of children I assumed would attack after I ate a bowl. I had hopes that, like the rest of the Strawberry Smiggles brand, the cereal itself might be a collision of the two actual cereals. Wouldn’t it be lovely to eat fruity Trix pieces cut with mushy Lucky Charms marshmallows?

But alas, the real-life Strawberry Smiggles is literally what tastes like a sack full of off-brand Lucky Charms marshmallows with no crunchy or more bland pieces included to balance out the oppressive sweetness. To the credit of Adult Swim and FYE, that’s exactly what appears in Rick and Morty. Bonus points for authenticity.

But to put the horrifyingly saccharine nature of this product in perspective: A single serving holds 93 percent of your daily sugar intake. Were you to have around 2.2 ounces of the stuff for breakfast, you wouldn’t be able to have any more sugar for the rest of the day. Disembowelment by children then becomes the least of your concerns.

Soon, you'll be begging for sweet death.
Soon, you'll be begging for sweet death.

When Tophat Jones says that the bowl is “resting comfortably in [his] stomach,” he’s either a goddamn liar or his biology is vastly different from a human being. After having a single bowl of the stuff, I felt like the sight of knife-wielding children would be a welcome blessing.

Even cutting the Smiggles with some nearby Cheerios didn’t do the trick in lightening the flavor, making this a grueling experience even without the gratuitous violence. But is the experience of actually eating some real-life Strawberry Smiggles worth it?

Absolutely.


If you liked this article, check out this video about an Evil Morty fan theory.