out of the blue

Jason's room was a mess. Suffice it to say, it was an adventure to eat cheerios there. Jason was particularly prone to dropping them on the floor, and was also particularly anal about making sure he picked them up again, when he noticed them at all. This had been going on for some time, and by now there was a random distribution of month-old disgustingly stale cheerios among the day old not-quite-as-crisp morsels already on the floor. It had become a minefield. An electric thrill drilled through his mind every time he picked one back up and put it into his mouth, for he never could tell what era it had wandered in from. If during a dig a paleontologist came upon a neolithic man, he could not have been more surprised as when Jason encountered an ancient piece of cereal; and no matter how many times it happened, his russian-roulette ecstasy lessened not at all. Jason doesn't notice the boxes piling up in his room; the game completely engrosses him, and he misses class after class and doesn't sleep. He doesn't note when the men come for him; they let him keep his cereal box, and they scoop up the solid foot of detritus from his floor. The doctors replace the old cheerios with new ones, all fresh and crispy, but he is surprised every time. Heads, heads, heads. Heads.