It's kind of like
I've been getting up eating Lucky Charms™ for four freakin' years now, savoring, relishing, loving the crunch of the first bites and the chalky squeak of the demolished marshmallows against my teeth, and the gradual sogginess seeping in my mouth and rolling down my throat—just like really enjoying my cereal, damn it, and then getting up and there are the housemates and I say, "Anyone want some Lucky Charms™?" and I just get all these fuckin' blank stares and silence and at length one kid finally stands up, cracking a smile, and says, "Look, we don't like Lucky Charms™. We like gruel," and they're all laughing because not only am I naked but I'm disemboweled, intestines around my ankles with my pants and there's red everywhere and you know what? Not even that goddamn leprechaun can help me now.