You know how your parents always tell you how good you have it compared to what they went through back in the day? Judging from these commercials, they may very well be right. While we struggle through a day of channel surfing with Feist and Victoria's Secret super models, our parents had to endure this kind of terror during commercial breaks--often with no remote control to save them.
You know what's kind of scary about this early version of the The Green Giant? Everything.
Nothing jolly about that fucker. That bizarre, jerky robotic walk and that cold, lifeless smile will haunt our dreams forever more.
If this commercial was a horror movie, it would surely feature a friendly, 70-year-old farmer who, on seeing this terror descending upon his farm, would let out a blood-curdling scream and and take cover behind a bale of hay. But after noticing the Giant's calm, smiling face and gentle demeanor he would foolishly step from behind his makeshift shelter and attempt to make nice with a few stammering "H-h-hey buddy's" and an ice breaking "Are ya lost?"
All fears would be put to rest when Big Green magically produced a can of Niblets and bent down as if to make a peace offering to the gentle farmer. It's at that point our beloved farmer would be bludgeoned to death with the can of corn and promptly devoured.
Make sure to bring all your friends, too! We wouldn't want anyone staying behind to tell your parents what you're doing now, would we? WOULD WE?!?!?
We shudder to think where these neighborhood skip-fests eventually ended. After earning the trust of neighborhood kids and parents through a series of fun-filled group activities, the Candies Man would inevitably start popping up at "other" times.
Like when that one kid with the absentee father and the alcoholic mother happened to be walking home from school alone. Out of the blue, there stands the M&M's Candies Man, smiling with that come hither grin with a half-guzzled bottle of scotch in one hand, a bag of M&M's in the other and a cigarette dangling from his lips.
We're not sure what was up with the cop who, half way through the ad, goes skipping along with M&M Man and his harem of preteens, but in most jurisdictions, wearing that outfit alone would be considered probable cause for a search warrant.
Super Sugar Crisp is a hell of a drug.
Have we ever seen a more stark portrayal of the family devastated by drug addiction? While Victor Vicious and his tiny Cloverfield-like offspring are busy wreaking havoc on defenseless grandma, Sugar Bear is nonchalantly sitting under a tree satiating his demons with a bowl of Crisp, terrifying in his apathy toward the situation, all like "evvvvvvvs maaaannnnn, I'll get to that bitch when I get to her. Quit harshing my mellow."
By the time he gets off his junkie ass and comes to grandma's rescue, the "vitamin stealer" has made a Hurricane Katrina-like skeleton of her once proud abode.
Probably settling a drug debt of some sort. But honestly, this is the direction things were headed anyway. It's clear from this commercial that Sugar Bear was spiraling out of control. It wouldn't have been long before he was stealing grandma's shit, including the siding off her house, to support his habit. Once that well ran dry, it's just a matter of time before he's blowing some grizzly bear in the back of a van for an eighth of Crisp and half a grapefruit as part of his less than wholesome breakfast. Tragic.
What happens when you invite the son of Satan himself over to spend the night and he doesn't like the breakfast you serve? He summons his minions, and wanton violence and deliciousness ensues!
At somewhere around the 15-second mark, we were hit with the sinking feeling that this commercial was going to end with the gracious sleep over host meeting an untimely and needlessly violent death at the hands of "Bobby." We're still not convinced that didn't happen at some point. As troubling as Bobby and his goth eye shadow is ...
... he has nothing on Snap, Crackle & Pop.
Notice how they just snapped and made that mushy cereal disappear? That's not a power that's generally limited to cereal. They could've done the same to those three equally-frightening mushy cereal henchmen. But they didn't. Because they wanted to fuck some shit up.
How do three mini-guys who work in the breakfast cereal industry even develop such a propensity for random violence? There's really only one explanation. The whole cereal thing is just a front; Snap, Crackle & Pop are hired killers.
We're not sure why Bobby wanted those mushy dudes killed, but he knew where they would be and he knew who to call to get the job done.