Alright, cantaloupes to the left, apples to the right. No, no, red to the left, apples to the right. Wait, this is wrong. Cut the scene, do not get too flaky, in fact, why don’t you just put the knives down, gentlemen. Swords to plowshares, right?
Listen: Pop-Tarts aren’t good, unless you slice ’em real nice said no one, ever. “Slice my pop-tart for me real nice,” is not a command you will hear from any cockpit. No one’s juggling Pop-Tart’s here, slicing them which way and that. Or juggling them. In the unbaked toastery-ness of them, for real. This is not happening.
This is a product of your imagination.
All queries subject to provable claims, when necessary. All rights reserved in Virginia, c/o Mr. Blackheart the Thorn-minded, in reference to file B-14-C91