Congratulations on Uncovering Those Ancient Ruins!

Your journey began on Wednesday, as many journeys do, and it’s been anything but dull. After arriving by plane in godless Mexico City on Thursday morning you took a ramshackle bus to the Yucatan Peninsula. Your bus was, natch, attacked by cannibals who killed most of the crew, but thanks to your honed survival skills (the product of years of thieving) you managed to come out of the whole affair more or less unscathed, with a few cannibal dicks for your belt.

After that you started wandering around the Yucatan which, by the way, means walking around for days on end without a ready source of fresh water or food. You occasionally found tourist traps, such as “working cattle ranches” and “shacks without windows” that had a few jugs of water and some sub-standard granola bars for trade. But nothing substantial.

This trend will continue until you reach your destination, early this morning.

You’ll more stumble upon the ruins than find them: they’ll leap out of the jungle at you, rising up from the earth into the skyline. Vines will have grown over the stones, stones that time has grown into the ground, out of the dirt. Bones will be scattered around the stones, animal and “other.” And, shockingly enough, there will be a Whole Foods standing in the center of the Mayan ruins, its bright green letters staring down at you. A bearded man will be sitting outside on his smoke break. As you pass by him he will not acknowledge you. He will simply stare ahead blindly.

Once you enter the building it’ll become quite obvious that he’s the only employee there. Most of the shelves will be unstocked, the produce will be rotting and the bread will be slightly staler than it usually is at Whole Foods.

The only thing that a yuppie would find familiar will be a massive granola bar display in the center of the store. It’ll essentially consist of a ziggurat built from granola bar boxes with Mayan statues and unfamiliar writing on them. They’ll rise well above your head, easing their way towards the ceiling. The bars displayed on the boxes will look a great deal like the one you found in the museum earlier this week.

You’ll grab one of the boxes and, after a cursory look around to make sure the Whole Foods employee isn’t watching you, you’ll tear out a bar and rip into it with your aching teeth.

It’ll taste just as grand as the other granola bar, better perhaps for your hunger.

You’ll open up your duffel bag, your knap sack and your empty water bottle and begin stuffing granola bars into all of them. When you’re finished you’ll be thoroughly weighed down with granola bars, but the display will still be towering above you, monstrously. You won’t be worried about not leaving behind granola bars for future generations. Quite the opposite, the sheer scope of the display will make you wonder if some force greater than man made these bars to keep us bound to this planet, for space seems at best a distraction when beset by such granola bars.

As you leave the man you saw as you entered will still be sitting outside, smoking the same cigarette. He’ll nod at you this time and mumble something that will sound vaguely like “thanks for shopping at Whole Foods.” You won’t respond as you walk off into the woods, beginning your harrowing journey home.

Congratulations on Uncovering Those Ancient Ruins!

Congratulations on Discovering the Greatest Granola Bar Ever!

Today, during what you first thought would be just an ordinary museum heist, you’re going to discover – drum roll please – a special exhibit dedicated to granola bars.

Most of the exhibit will be given over to the history of the granola bar, resplendent with dioramas of how the ancient Sumerians crafted granola bars in their ziggurats and would give them to slaves so that they could have convenient high energy snacks with low to no fuss while they toiled themselves to death doing whatever it is that the Sumerians made their slaves do. Other dioramas will comment on the function of granola bars during the American revolution, during the Great Depression and during World War II. Another granola diorama will ask the question “DID THE DINOSAURS EAT GRANOLA BARS?!” inconclusively.

Most of these dioramas will be, as dioramas tend towards, extremely boring. But one of them will stand out. It’ll be at the back of the room, surrounded by red velvet ropes and a glass case. It’ll have a small, tasteful gold plaque below it, reading: “THE WORLD’S MOST DELICIOUS GRANOLA BAR.”

You’ll scoff at the exhibit and consider running off to find some paintings or something, but that plaque will bring you back. You’ll get out your museum-glass-case-opening-kit and crack the glass case containing the granola bar right out. Then you’ll taste it, just to see how it measures up to Nature Valley.

It’ll destroy your taste buds. In an instant you’ll learn what true deliciousness is. Your jaw will unhinge, and you’ll want more than anything else in the world to eat another bite of that sweet, sweet granola. Lucky for you the wrapper, upon examination, will be a map that details the location of an ancient ruin in the Yucatan Peninsula. This ruin will be labeled:

GRANOLA PARADISE

Pack your bags, son! You’re goin’ to the Yucatan tomorrow!

Congratulations on Discovering the Greatest Granola Bar Ever!