In the case of Fruity Yummy Mummy, all of eternity lasted more or less six years. Unearthed from his sarcophagus and conscripted into General Mills' monster army in 1987, three years after the fall of Frute Brute, rule lasted until 1993. His fruity frayed wrappings in tatters, Yummy Mummy was ushered back into his tomb, where he lay undisturbed for two decades. Why?
Mummies suck. They're just horrible.
Unlike the other minions of General Mills, there is no romanticizing the mummy's plight. He is no wayward spirit, trapped in the blue realm between worlds. He is not a bloodthirsty beast hiding behind charm and refinement. He is no fuzzy puppy. He is a dead rich guy, wrapped in the toilet paper of history. Preserved dead flesh wrapped in gauze. And now, to differentiate him from the cereal he displaced, he tastes of orange cream. Mmmm, orange cream.
A mummy does not crave power, or yearn for the past, or need a good scritching behind the ear. A mummy protects its tomb. As long as no one disturbs said tomb, the mummy sits in a gold box and does absolutely nothing.
A mummy was once something special. Perhaps in life, this particular nameless Pharaoh spread his milky citrus goodness across the land. Everywhere he walked, his flavor followed, and lesser men fell before its pungent power.
But not now. Now he's just a dusty reminder of a once-great flavor combination. He guards his legacy jealously, unaware that we now live in the age of the Creamsicle and Life Savers' Creme Savers, powerful objects of arcane orange flavor, readily available to the masses.
Let us not disturb his rest again.
Snacktaku is Kotaku's take on the wild and wonderful world of eating things, but not eating meals. Eating meals is for those with too much time on their hands. Past critiques can be found at the Snacktaku review archive.