For years, makers of kids' cereals have been upping the ante to get kids interested: hiding a toy surprise inside, adding multicolored marshmallows, setting bear traps in the cereal aisle. Now Post, maker of the classic Flintstones-themed Fruity Pebbles, has created "Poppin' Pebbles," an explosive Pop Rocks-cereal mashup.
Miles: This is the only cereal on the market that fizzes and foams in your mouth. Well, this and Cinnamon Rabies Crunch.
Ian: The Flintstones weren't entirely unhealthy people. When you think about it, their car was basically like an early treadmill desk.
![This is food.](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/f2579bc/2147483647/strip/true/crop/624x468+0+0/resize/880x660!/quality/90/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fmedia.npr.org%2Fassets%2Fimg%2F2014%2F02%2F03%2Fphoto-2-2-fdb3b3288f646e7f0018551b90f9cc2c7708d5c3.jpg)
Robert: I fed these to my kids for breakfast just the other day. I'll find out how they liked them as soon as I regain custody.
Miles: I never thought they would create a cereal less healthful for you than Amyl Nitrate Popper Pebbles, but they've proved me wrong again.
Ian: These Poppin' Pebbles are great, but I like the ones with tetanus better — the Poppin' and Lockin' Pebbles.
Eva: Frugal cave parents buy the generic kind: "Multicolored Flakes That Go Boom In Your Mouth When You Eat Them."
![Ian is suspicious of any weaponized cereal.](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/3546484/2147483647/strip/true/crop/568x426+0+0/resize/880x660!/quality/90/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fmedia.npr.org%2Fassets%2Fimg%2F2014%2F02%2F03%2Fphoto-3-2-d0538d88ae22721a900c3cf35e0d2e548bdaafc1.jpg)
Miles: I'm confused. Are these just dried pieces of Fred and Wilma's daughter?
Eva: No wonder cavemen only lived to age 35.
Ian: One of the leading theories for why the dinosaurs went extinct is actually Pop Rocks & Coke.
![Bamm-Bamm, all grown up, became Robert-Robert.](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/0eb66c4/2147483647/strip/true/crop/1603x1203+0+0/resize/880x660!/quality/90/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fmedia.npr.org%2Fassets%2Fimg%2F2014%2F02%2F03%2Fphoto-11-4b54b9e4595ba811f8bd2b85ec27e49610ddf4fb.jpg)
Robert: Maybe I ate these too fast, but is my stomach supposed to be the size of the Hindenburg now?
Ian: You understand why they needed exciting cereals when all prehistoric kids had to watch was Saturday Morning Cave Paintings.
Eva: Yeah, strict cave moms only bought these on special occasions. Like to celebrate not getting eaten by a tiger.
Miles: The only way this could be part of a complete breakfast is if the rest of the meal is a note telling you not to eat them.
Eva: I bet prehistoric dentists hate this stuff.
Miles: Yabba-dabba-don't.
![Eva attempts to detect the fizz effect.](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/f777460/2147483647/strip/true/crop/611x458+0+0/resize/880x660!/quality/90/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fmedia.npr.org%2Fassets%2Fimg%2F2014%2F02%2F03%2Fphoto-5-2-4b8a9db86a27bd5886904b3e16415e45e9bfe655.jpg)
[The verdict: a great (horrible) idea, but not well-executed. Actual fizzing and sizzling moments were rare. To get that real Pop Rocks feeling, you had to pick out the few green, fizzy pieces and eat them on their own.]
Sandwich Monday is a satirical feature from the humorists at Wait Wait ... Don't Tell Me!
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