Through half opened eyes, Sty let his hand flop over the bed and dug into the opened box of Frosted Flakes. His fingers grabbed the sugared coated hidden grains and then smacked them into his mouth. He could almost hear the large screen TV that covered the wall in front of him over the crunch inside his mouth and head. Some of the sugar spilled down his shirt and he followed it remembering he was half dressed, a nice shirt and socks. Was he supposed to be somewhere? With a shrug he reached for another handful. Only half found their way into his mouth.
Somewhere between the munch of flakes and the refills Sty caught a bit of some off news, news story. Something about finding someone who made wishes come true? Sty laughed out loud. “Jimmy Cricket!” He brought his feet up, pulled them under the rest of him standing up quickly on the bed and he began to bounce. That was the best thing about his new number bed, it had a good spring. As frosted flakes spilled down his shirt as he jumped up and down on his bed listening to the story about some guy who granted wishes.
“I want to be a real boy!” He shouted as he jumped.
As soon as he caught just a little air he stopped. Wait, Sty thought, there is a grand story there. Inspiration! It could be a movie, or a sitcom, or a sad sad book of pitifully longings. He could find the place and get grand ideas for all his art. Yes, it would be a hot bed of emotional misfits. He was sure to find something there that would scream of creative energy.He took one last jump and landed on the floor hitting the box of cereal and spilling it all over the fine Persian rug. Sty didn’t notice. With a bit of a search he found his iPhone and called one of the only numbers he ever used.
“Stella, I just found my art! Find out everything about the news story about some man in London who grants wishes.” Brief pause “I don’t know what channel. I can’t do everything.”