Poster family

On the preamble to work this morning, past the many advertising hoardings made largely subliminal by contempt of familiarity, I caught sight of a new poster campaign; it was for an ever-popular brand of bland breakfast cereal, depicting a youngish dad with designer facial fungus and his two young children sat at the table, and this tableaux was framed and infused with the golden glow of the morning sun – solar flares glinting off silvery spoons as they tucked into their GM flakes before they turned to a milky pulp. But where's mom? Perhaps she's strung-out on the bathroom floor, injecting junk into one of the few remaining uncollapsed inner-thigh veins? Or out back, arms stretching to reach-around the trigger as she bites hard on the shotgun barrel? Or may be she's held up at some anonymous airport lounge, awaiting her flight home from the international business conference where she had unprotected sex in multiples? Who knows? The point is, nothing could distract from this freeze-frame moment of perfection.