Tony the Tiger, icon of millions of cereal box covers, and TV commercials, his life, thus far, has not been Grrrreat.

               “Frankly, my life has been a living hell-of a bitch, wrapped around a utility pole, at the bottom of an ice covered dark, dead end road,” says Tony, from the back of an alley where he sells loose pistachio nuts.

             Not so long ago, Tony was on top of the world, riding on the waves of celebrity and financial solvency.  Now, Tony is penniless and a mere shell of the cereal star he once was back in the day.

                 “I had it all… until I decided to risk everything to pursue my own cold breakfast cereal dream,” Tony says, as he pockets two dollars in exchange for seven lightly salted pistachio nuts.   He goes on.  “My big idea was called Cold Cereal Osmosis, where the milk was packaged in the cereal box and the cereal went into the milk carton.  It failed big time!  An endless river of curdled milk and millions of soggy toy prizes and boxtops later, I was flat-ass broke.”

         And then subsequently, Tony simply ran into a streak of  straight-up bad luck.

            “So, after that, I moved from California to Florida where it was more affordable,” Tony states.  “I also needed to escape an avalanche of overdue library late fees, and constantly being mistaken for Tiger Woods.”   Tony exchanges ten roasted, salted, Ranch pistachio nuts for a fiver.  He goes on.  “Another reason I left California for Florida was to avoid the constant wildfires.”  He chuckles, shakes his head, continues.  “And then in Florida, I ended up living next door to an alligator who was a pyromanic.  My straw hut filled with IKEA furniture went up like the goddamn Hindenburg!”

                 Bad luck.  Tony has been struck by lightning on three separate occasions.   Three times.

              “First time, I was on the roof adjusting the antenna to get better reception to watch ALF,” Tony says.   “Second time, I was in the hall closet shaking a tin foil pan of Jiffy Pop popcorn on a George Foreman grill.”   Tony shakes his head, continues.  “Third time, I was in the basement, under the pool table, flossing in between the metal fillings in my teeth.  Crazy.”

               And from there, Tony has found himself here, in this alley, pimping pistachio nut singles just to survive.

                “I’ve done things out here that I’m really ashamed of, I’m not gonna lie,” Tony says.   His eyes cast down into the shadows, continues.  “I was once so desperate, I sold six of my tiger stripes  to Cap N’ Crunch in exchange for one night’s lodging in his ship’s poop deck.  I have even performed services for the Captain that involved swabbing his deck.“

             A reminiscent smile spreads along Tony’s face.  He points to a mega-load of bags of pistachio nuts stored in the dumpster next to him.  “One day soon my ship will come in.”