Tony the Tiger hurls an accusatory paw toward heaven. Toucan Sam morosely scans the oatmeal. Count Chocula bares his bucktooth fangs in apprehension. All are disturbed by the smug new arrival, led into the cereal aisle by the ever-jaunty Leprechaun. Unlike its normally cheerful brethren, Kellogg’s Unicorn: Magic Cupcake feels no need to endear itself to the lowly consumer. With sparkling mane blown wild and its golden horn a’glimmer, the unicorn’s expression remains ambivalent on the box’s front, one long-lashed eye staring into a place just beyond you. Gee, you’re apt to think, aren’t you a dazzling Mona Lisa Frank?

The cereal creatures are right to be mystified by the Unicorn. Opening its box produces a sugary scent unrivaled among its contemporaries. Even the cocoa assault bursting from a box of that pancreas-taxing monstrosity Krave pales in comparison. You may indeed suspect that the Unicorn’s sweat is imbued with sublime vanilla sweetness. Upon the first bite, the glittery sugar slaps at your tongue, grinds into your teeth, and surges through your bloodstream. Trying to choke it down, you may find yourself bucking your legs like an irritated Shetland.

Once you’ve mastered the sucrose-explosion, however, you’ll gradually grow enlivened. In fact, it’s hard to imagine even John Harvey Kellogg himself dreaming up a cereal as restorative as the Unicorn. After a bowl or two, you’ll feverishly search the side of the box for your new approved namesake. Might you become Moonbeam Glitter Blossom? Or Ladybug Starshine Blazer? You’ll feel the urge to leap on the tabletop, thrusting your hornless-yet-regal skull toward the sky, and casting off your clumsy human identity. Join your humble reviewer, Emerald Twinkle Sweet, here in the demon-twee revelry of the Unicorns.