Despite his more careerist decisions, the Quaker Oats Quaker does not like oatmeal. He despises most hot breakfasts. The Quaker Oats Quaker is a yogurt man. He loves a Chobani Flip that he consumes like a goat. “I am a dairy vampire,” he says to his therapist, and she ends their session early. As he walks down the street, the Quaker Oats Quaker sees a sign in a shop window that says 10-Cent DVDs. “Never in my friendly existence has a dime held so much value,” he says to himself and goes in. The DVDs are in a milk-crate that smells of unfinished basement. He selects Because of Wynn Dixie, and the cashier says to him, “You sure? That movie is very sad.” “Sometimes,” the Quaker Oats Quaker responds, “a yogurt is best enjoyed when one is very sad.” He returns home, plays his newly-purchased film, and begins to fill himself with yogurt. The film makes him very sad, and he says to himself, “Sometimes, it is difficult to be a Christian in advertising.” He takes another spoonful. “And sometimes,” he continues, “a cold breakfast does not make me feel any better.” He lies down on his sofa, feeling too full to move. “I am a dairy vampire!” He exclaims. “A yogurt-filled donut! A corpse embalmed with fermented milk!” He notices a drop of yogurt on his blue coat. It holds its form like a cloud, and it’s shaped like a jellyfish, or maybe a loaf of bread.