The Monster Cereal mascots were mentioned during episodes #64, #65, #66, #67, and #114 of House of Snax, where Diet Coke and Lilith reviewed Frute Brute, Frenken Berry, Count Chocula, Boo Berry, and Carmella Creeper. Some of the cereal boxes contain very descriptive and sexually explicit biographies of the characters, but they have only been present on boxes bought by Lilith, leading her to believe that these biographies are exclusive to the stores near her. She bought the first four at a Target in the Austin area[1] and bought Carmella Creeper at a Target on a retail island outside of Portland.[2] Friend of the show Kat from the Chicks with Dice podcast was credited as the writer for Carmella Creeper's biography on the back of the box, but the other four boxes did not have writing credits.[2]
Biographies[]
Frute Brute[]
Born to Esmerelda, wife of raspberry magnate Landon Mayweather in 1834, Thaddeus Mayweather spent much of his youth in exclusive private boarding schools, gaining the knowledge he would need to take over his father’s considerable fruit empire. When not at school, he lived in the lap of luxury in the reclusive Mayweather estate, his every need catered to by the family manservant Brentdtly, his life unmarred by the proletarian ravages of the nearby harbor town of South Weathersby.
On a misty October night Thaddeus, 22 of age and fatigued with the plush confines of his home, wandered into the Weathersby Woods on a midnight stroll, lit only by the full moon. Thaddeus claims not to recall what happened after he left for the woods that night but the morning after he was found by the loyal Brendtly on the front steps of the Mayweather estate with his clothes ripped to shreds and a distinct, bloody bite mark on his neck. Brendtly tended to his wounds and nursed the young man back to health, but it seemed the scars left by that night ran deeper than the flesh.
After that night, Thaddeus only retreated further into his seclusion at Mayweather estate, speaking to no one but his trusted Brendtly. He spurned advances from the daughters of neighboring nobles who attempted to court his favor, either to consolidate their considerable familial wealth or simply due to the young man’s lithe and striking figure.
In the years that followed, an urban legend began to spread amongst the local dockworkers of a great beast prowling the harbor under moonlit nights. Dozens of dockworkers traded stories of being pursued by a hulking hairy figure, stalked and carnally ravaged by the mysterious creature who smelled strangely of sweet fruit. Word spread, and the Weathersby harbor became a popular destination among sailing folk on full moon nights, each of them looking to have their wanting holes filled with thick creamy loads by the legendary Fruit Brute.
Franken Berry[]
Doctor Oswald Klempsinger was a surgeon living in northern germany with his lover, an italian pool cleaner named Bernardo in a reclusive castle. During a particularly brutal winter Bernardo was out gathering firewood he became lost, only being found after succumbing to frostbite in his arms and legs and ultimately passing.
Klempsinger found his cherished lover in the snow the next morning and brought his body back to his castle’s surgery room. His attempts at resuscitation proved ineffective at first, until Klempsinger chanced upon an idea while reading over experimental medical texts from a swiss doctor.
Under the cover of night, Klempsinger robbed graves and morgues, gathering the intact body parts to replace the ones destroyed by Bernardo’s frostbite. Through his days locked away deep in his castle, Klempsinger grafted body parts to his lover’s body, replacing almost all but his heart and, the one irreplaceable part of Bernardo. The one that drove Klempsinger near the point of madness to preserve. His luscious, meaty member.
through a combination of medical malpractice and something that bordered on the supernatural, Klempsinger returned a pulse to the body of his lost lover. The beast he awakened had none of Bernardo’s memories, nor much cognitive function at all, beyond a need to pound hole. And pound hole he did, finally sating Klempsinger’s lust. After his 18th consecutive prostate orgasm, Klempsinger gathered his thoughts long enough to name his creation, a combination of the swiss scientist whose work made his possible, and his cherished lovers name. FRANKEN BERRY
Count Chocula[]
The only known record of Count Chocula comes from the journals of Jonathan Harkness, a chocolatier from Newcastle who in 1897 traveled to eastern europe in search of new flavors for his chocolates. He was given a mysterious warning from a villager in Transylvania to beware the Castle Chocula and the chocolatier within. Driven by his curiosity, he made a trek to the Castle and was greeted by the curious Count and his manservant Heathfield.
Both the count and Heathfield were hospitable, and treated the young Harkness to a bevy of chocolates, the flavors of which bewildered his senses to the point where he found himself unable to concentrate or indeed hold his consciousness. Harkness retired to a lush room in the Count's massive estate, escorted by Heathfield.
In his diaries he wrote of dreams of sucking and fucking, of gallons of sweet milky cum and of the count's luscious tongue rimming his hole. He awakened with a start, drenched in sweat, to news of the arrival of a doctor Van Halsey, a vampire hunter and singer. Harkness describes a tense scene in the foyer of the castle, the doctor stating Count Chocula is vampyr and that she is there to slay him in the name of the Lord. Harkness stepped in to defend the Count, saying that he is simply an eccentric chocolatier.
Heathfield, seeking to diffuse the situation, provided a dish of sweets of the count's creation. Halsey, Heathfield, Harkness and the count each partook and found themselves overtaken with lust the moment the chocolate touched their lips. They proceeded to have a bisexual orgy right there in the foyer, with no hole going unfulfilled. Von Halsey was armed with her standard vampire gear, of course, but was also hard packing and rammed her strap in Heathfield's ass. It went on for hours, loads were slurped down by all. Harkness even recounted drinking Count Chocula's piss and noting that it tasted faintly of sweet hazelnut.
That was the final entry of Jonathan Harkness' journal. His fate, along with the fate of the count and his manservant remains unknown. Van Halsey went on to become a singer, with chart topping hits such as Without Me and Him & I.
Boo Berry[]
Timothy Malmet was born in 1883 to a life of privilege at his father's palacial estate. His father was a wealthy owner of a blueberry farm, his mother a socialite. He was educated at the finest all-boys boarding schools in Massachussets. On his 21st birthday his parents threw him an extravagant soiree at the estate, attended to by his friends from boarding school and flowing with the Malmot family's famous blueberry wine.
He was given many extravagant gifts, but it seemed his favorite was a little yellow porkpie hat with a red band and a matching red bowtie, given to him by his best friend Jeremiah. After imbibing too many glasses and playing a few rounds of rugby with the boys, Timothy found himself pondering his future at the lip of a well when an errant rugby ball flew in his direction. He was hit on his head and fell into the well, dying instantly. He was a virgin and now he's a ghost or whatever.
Carmella Creeper[]
Born to parents Ingrid and Herbert in small town of Köckberg, Austria, Carmella Drach grew up among the trees of her parents apple orchard. Her youth was marked by a love of tree climbing, and wonder at the natural world, until one day, her life was changed. A schoolyard crush introduced the young Carmella to the world of Industrial music. As her life became filled with harsh guitar, synth, and drum machines, so too did she begin to change. Her bangs, cut short, were dyed black. Her skin was made sallow by her lack of sunlight. Despite those changes, she always loved her family apple farm. Never leaving home without at least a few apple slices. Even so, friends drifted away until eventually she found herself alone at an invite only 18+ Samhain warehouse rave.
The cacophony of machinery and sweat washed over her, rumbling bass sending sympathetic vibration through her entire body. She felt something deep, primal, visceral take over. She had gone to a place where latex and leather tinged the air with sweat. Where the pounding of machinery was made beautiful. It was intoxicating. She found herself immersed in smells that were sacred in their profanity. She was home.
She never made it back from that rave. She officially fell victim to an industrial accident, but others say she was smothered by the sweat and flesh of a raw and rancid fuck-pile. Carmella Drach was buried in a plot on the family farm at 23 years old along with slices of her beloved apples.
Legend says it was six weeks later, when Skinny Puppy was due to play a show under the light of the full moon that something changed. A hand reached up from the still unsettled dirt of Carmella’s grave. This new being, this Carmella Creeper, was sighted that night at the show. Eye witnesses accounts indicate a pale green woman wandering around the venue, where she would work way through the crowd, feeding each of her unsuspecting victims a slice of apple from under her arm. Monster Cereal caught up with some of Ms. Creeper’s conquests on the anniversary of her first appearance. They, wishing to remain anonymous, had this to say.
“I’ve fucked some freaks before. Girls putting cigarettes out on my tongue after making me beg for it. Boys who want nothing more than to be hunted down, strung up and used like a fleshlight. But this girl was different. She just showed up in the pit, ambling through like it was nothing. I watched her get hit in the head half a dozen times until she stood in front of me, grabbed me by the face, and demanded I open my mouth. I fully thought she was gonna spit right in there, and I was fully okay with it.
I though, hey, let’s see where this is going. Instead she says ‘you’re dehydrated, eat this’ and pulls an apple slice out from her fucking armpit. It smelled kind of sweet, but the thing was soaked through with sweat and what I think was decay. I’m not ashamed to admit, it was hot, and I know I looked pathetic, but damn if I didn’t eat that fucking apple while she cooed ‘good girl’ in my ear. After that, she was just gone. I still wonder what happened to her, was it just another Friday night for her? I can’t stop thinking about licking her pits and it’s been years.”
Another conquest had this to say: “Yeah so, I wheeled her one time. It was at a Zombie Girl show of all places. You ever smelled zombie snatch? That’s an odour that fuckin lingers, my guy, apples or no apples. Could go for those apples again tho, fuck.”
So industrial fans beware! You too may fall victim to the wandering trull known as Carmella Creeper.