Marvin's Point of View: 6:24am, September 14th, 1968.
I swirled the fork with the luxurious, yellow desirable eggs around in my mouth. It tasted so good, but felt so wrong. The maids watched me commit this act with the yellow egg, and they didn't seem to care. Then I started eating the spinach. A green-brown spinach that tasted so good in my mouth but I couldn't help to wonder how it'd feel... Down there.
I decided to partake in the luxurious exploration and put the spinach down my pants. It felt so good, yet so wrong. The maids were now staring intently at me and the spinach engaging in sinful—but pleasurable—acts.
The spinach seemed to moan as I grabbed the toast. I took my shirt off and rubbed the toast on my nipples. It felt so... Perfect. That was when I'd known I'd found my one true love. I didn't want to eat this breakfast, I wanted to shove my dick in the toast.
And that I did. Until the toast screamed for me not to because it couldn't breathe in my pants. I pulled it out a bit too late because before I knew it, I'd murdered the toast. "No! My tasty toast lover!" I sobbed. The maids had ran off and I was faced with what I'd done. I'd killed my one true love.
The spinach had been watching so I cracked the spinach's feet. The eggs hadn't seen anything, but I killed them anyway. I hate being Marvin now. Marvin turned 14 today and murdered the very best breakfast in town.
This was the 8th time this had happened this week. Yes, you can eat 8 breakfasts in a week. The cops were looking for me now. So I had to hide. And I hid. In the fridge.
The toaster strudel was giving me a dirty look from the freezer. He was a relative of the toast. The other unfertilized chicken fetuses gave me a dirty look aswell and then the spinach approached me.
And that was the last thing I remember before I got murdered by breakfast foods.