The year is 20IXIX.

The city is in ruins. Gangs have taken over the streets: burning down kids’ lemonade stands, filling mailboxes with wasps, and helping old ladies cross the street…BY THROWING THEM.

And it’s all because of the diabolical Crispix Corporation.

Are you a bad enough dude to stop them?

Let me amend that post-apocalyptic premise by saying that I have absolutely nothing against Crispix cereal. It just sounds exactly like the name of a generic, evil business conglomerate from an ’80s cyberpunk techno-dystopia movie.

But of course, it isn’t. It’s a light and crispy (who would’ve guessed), hexagonal cereal from Kellogg’s that has rice on one side and corn on the other. The two sides are fused via some sort of black magic polymerization to create a 3D piece that looks a bit like one of those Atlaspheres from American Gladiators.

The scent of the cereal is refined, corny, and plain. It smells like one of those parties where there are no real hors d’oeuvres but the host has about 100 small bowls of Chex Mix strategically placed throughout the house.

As any Crispix muncher will quickly find out, the comparisons to be drawn between this cereal and Chex Mix are many, as the dual sides of the hexagons are essentially just pieces of Rice Chex and Corn Chex haphazardly stuck together through some miracle of food science. Or maybe just Elmer’s Glue. I can only imagine the brainstorming that went down in Kellogg’s headquarters:

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“Sir, we’ve finished our version of a Chex cereal. General Mills won’t know what hit ’em!”

“How many sides does it have?” [Imagine this guy with a Darth Vader voice.]

“Uh, just four, sir. L-like Chex?”

“Add two more.”

“But sir, the product will be unstable!”

“Do as I say! And breed the pieces to create a hybrid cereal Übermensch while you’re at it!”

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It sounds sinister, but hey, at least they thought of a better name than Crispy Hexagons.

Biting into a heaping geometric spoonful, I immediately realize that Crispix is secretly the perfect cereal for the Fall season. Why? Because if you close your eyes, the sound of the brittle, crunching pieces sounds exactly like that same pleasant crunch you hear when walking on fallen leaves. Go ahead, try it. You’ll thank me later.

As for the taste? Yep, just like Rice and Corn Chex. The rice side has just about no discernible flavor, and like this simile which I am currently typing, serves only as filler material. Instead, the corn side produces the overbearingly woodsy and starchy flavor. The aftertaste of it has a tendency to hang around the back fo your mouth for awhile, too. Almost as if it’s…stalking you.

Sorry, that one was pretty corny (two reviews in a row with corn puns: are you proud me now, mom?).

The taste experience is therefore unremarkable; the pieces mostly just end up being earthy flavor vehicles for whatever milk you pour on them. I’m tempted to mix in some pretzels and Wheat Chex to just make an impromptu Chex Mix Cereal, but pretzels + milk = probable nightmare fuel. Even better, I wish Kellogg’s had spiced these up by sticking little raisin prisoners inside each cage of corn and rice.

Regardless, the textural mouthfeel is enough to make Crispix an enjoyable diversion. With a little imagination, I envisioned myself as an altruistic Godzilla, cleaning up the brown and beige leaves that had cluttered a cereal bowl campground.

So pour yourself a bowl of Crispix, and let each hexagon be an empty slate for your mind’s creation.

Jeez, I never thought a cereal would make me so philosophical.

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The Bowl: Crispix

The Breakdown: Corn and rice don’t produce a strong flavor, but the thought of eating Autumn leaves is worth the price of admission.

The Bottom Line: 6 Hail Mary-ed old ladies out of 10 (no old ladies were harmed in the making of this review)