A box of cereal. There was nothing else to compare him to. In his usual perfectly square shape with his flawless talents marking his corners. His flashing smile was his advertisement, challenging the world to try him. His bright eyes his name brand, the single trait everyone recognized him by and I was sure had to be copyrighted. He was full off nothing but goodness with a friendship-back garantee if proven otherwise. What's more, he even opened up when you needed him, with an occasional prize inside if you dug deep enough. Always fresh, or clean-cut, and contained the most wholesome of vitamins and minerals for the socially malnutritioned, letting them shine by admitting that he'd be all the better with some milk.
And as I spotted him the crowd of a pantry, I realized that amongst all the other breakfast-bowl-fillers out there that tried to buy their way into my life, he was my favorite.