The Next Stephen King? I Got Really High and Don’t Remember Writing This Shit

Posted on by Sidney Conant

Stephen King’s legacy as a horror visionary is as far-reaching as it is undeniable, but it should be fair to say that he, like all of us, harbors a bag of bones in the closet. There was a time in his career when his addictions got the better of him and he ended up creating works that he can’t recall putting to paper. Is it possible that there exists a dumber, yet equally attractive author out there ready to dethrone the King? I got zonked out of my gourd last week and typed up my own book, but I don’t remember writing a word of this nonsense.

I honestly don’t know how it happened. One minute my lard-ass was sitting in front of a bag of frozen tater tots that I figured I could just warm up in my mouth, and cradling a martini made with some uppers and stuff that I scored off a buddy of mine. The next minute I was lying face-down in front of the printer, splayed out like I’d been hit by a minivan on the shoulder of Route 5, gradually becoming buried under a sea of paper and ink that I sure as hell am way too unemployed to replenish.

I somehow wrote a horror story when I was high on that green mile, typing away at the cool ranch Doritos-stained Bluetooth keyboard connected to my phone. And honestly? Reading what came out of the labyrinthian hedge maze of my mind terrified me, but, you know, in like a manly way. Not because it was scary or anything, but because it’s frightening just how much it fucking sucks.

Seriously, this thing is an incomprehensible mess of names and timelines, and even though it’s over 1,000 pages long, the ending still feels rushed. Also, tell me the truth: how many characters would you say are allowed to be writers in one story? Because I’m counting 17, and even though nine of them are women, they’re written only to be sex objects–and not even hot ones.

I could only make it to the part where I introduced the villain 50 pages in before I had to give up entirely. Honestly, a cobbler whose shoes compel people to walk onto active railways? Please. No one’ll be quaking in their boots over that.

I wish I could tuck this all away into a mental lockbox, but unfortunately, that’s impossible. Apparently, I already posted this garbage to Reddit, and people are obsessed with it; I keep getting DMs asking me things like, “What’s the deal with the 17-author cage match?” or, “SEQUEL WHEN?!”

Shit, I guess we’ll never know now, because I’m sober for good.

Kamala Harris Leans Into Cool Aunt Image by Promising Junior Staffers Can Drink Beers in White House Basement

Posted on by Trevor Graham

WASHINGTON — Presumptive Democratic nominee Kamala Harris attempted to boost her perception as a “cool aunt” by announcing that if elected she will let junior staff members drink beers in the basement of the White House, sources who like to party confirmed.

“I realize there is a perception with some young voters that since I was a prosecuting attorney I’m very strict, but if elected this November you’ll see I’m not a typical president, I’m like a cool government official who lets their junior staff members drink Bud Light Lime in the basement of the White House,” said Harris while recording a TikTok dance. “Look, junior staffers are going to drink, I get it. But if they drink here at least I know where they are and that they’re not out getting invited to Matt Gaetz’s office.”

While current staff members appreciate the idea, many claim that it was not really necessary to hide their drinking around President Biden.

“Yeah, at first we would sneak a few brews in an empty office or even just behind his back but as time went on he didn’t even seem to notice when we would pound one down right in front of him,” explained current staffer Kyle Durban. “It became a game to see who could get the most shitfaced in front of him. One time Brayden dared me to get Biden his morning coffee while we funneled a sixer standing right in front of him and all he said was ‘You boys seem thirsty. Why don’t you go down to the soda pop shop and get yourself a malted’ then he threw a nickel at us.”

Republican strategist James Lockland says Harris making this announcement is a desperate attempt to make her seem cooler than Trump.

“Kamala is flailing in the polls and has no real policy agenda so she is attempting to win young voters just by being the younger and cooler candidate. She wants us to think she will let her junior staff members drink in the White House while they’re working but with Trump those staffers won’t even need to do any work,” said Lockland. “As with his first term, nothing will really get done in the White House and junior staff members won’t have much to do other than cleaning ketchup stains from the Oval Office carpet and changing out the air fresheners.”

At press time, Harris had made an announcement that she just ordered an air hockey table and “one of those arcade machines that plays ‘Galaga’ and ‘Ms. Pac Man.’”

Six Songs We’re Listening To This Week While Panicking About Our Costco Membership Hustle

Posted on by Corey Montgomery

Another week, another slew of new music you couldn’t be bothered to seek out on your own. We get it, with tens upon tens of songs being released each week, it can feel overwhelming to decide which ones deserve your attention. Not to worry. We’ve taken on the herculean task of hand picking a selection of new songs to kickstart your appetite. Eat up and don’t come back for seconds until you’ve finished your plate.

Marcloid & Woods Law Group ‘Peter & Angel like the music they made for you to listen to, & hope you do too’

Marcloid & Woods Law Group – the project of Angel Marcloid of Fire Toolz, and our very own Peter Woods – is here to settle the case of you not listening to nearly enough noise music. The judge is unlikely to rule in your case given the severity of your crime, but there’s still time for you to change your ways. While we can’t predict the final verdict, we can still sentence you to at least five spins of the head cleansing sonic barrage that is the duo’s debut ‘…Loves Itself.’

Destroy Boys ft. Mannequin Pussy & Scowl ‘You Hear Yes’

Someone’s apparently been going through our notebook labeled ‘TOP SECRET SUPERGROUP IDEAS: DON’T READ’ because Destroy Boys has teamed up with Mannequin Pussy & Scowl to unleash the rager ‘You Hear Yes.’ As if this track wasn’t exciting enough on its own merit, Destroy Boys have also released their fourth album ‘Funeral Soundtrack #4’ in its entirety. Don’t say we never helped you with your weekend plans.

Bright Eyes ‘Rainbow Pass ft. Alex Orange Drink’

Conor Oberst is clearly back in his folk-punk bag with the latest Bright Eyes single ‘Rainbow Pass.’ Featuring Alex Orange Drink from the So So Glos, the track leans a bit fuzzier than we’ve been used to hearing from Oberst as of late. In fact, it’s only a distorted vocal and a few BPMs away from a Desaparacidos, which translates to ‘sick as fuck.’ Here’s hoping the band committed to the bit when the new album drops next month.

Adrianne Lenker ‘Once A Bunch’

Earlier this year, Big Thief’s Adrianne Lenker released her devastatingly amazing solo venture ‘Bright Future.’ As if we needed a reminder of how prolific Lenker is, she has dropped a new B-Side from that record ‘Once A Bunch.’ It’s a woozy dose of Americana that wouldn’t sound out of place at a drunken campfire. History shows this isn’t the only gem left on the cutting room floor, so we won’t be surprised if she suddenly drops, like, four more albums next month.

Cursive ‘Imposturing’

Very soon, Cursive will be dropping what seems to be an excellent new entry into their discography, ‘Devourer.’ On the latest single for said album, ‘Imposturing,’ lead singer Tim Kasher invites you to imagine a world in which your deepest fears and anxieties manifest themselves into some sort of monster. This shouldn’t be hard to do considering your very public breakdown at karaoke last week, but at least you have a new song to sing now.

Motion City Soundtrack ‘Stop Talking’

Crack open an NA beer and plan on staying up until 10 PM tonight because Motion City Soundtrack is back, baybeeeeee! The band has released their first song in nearly a decade, and they haven’t skipped a beat. ‘Stop Talking’ delivers the pristine power-pop long-time fans have come to know and love from the quintet and if you thought age might have tamed frontman Justin Pierre’s penchant for neurotic and vulnerable lyricism, think again.

What? Six songs aren’t enough? Of course not, you greedy bastard. We figured you might be the ungrateful type, so we’ve put these and a whole bunch of other songs in a convenient and constantly updated playlist for you. Click here to listen and dazzle your friends with your newfound relevancy.

10 Amazon Finds That Won’t Replace The Polly Pocket Airplane You Wanted As A Child, But Might Numb The Pain For A While

Posted on by Violet Meeker

I want to preface this by letting you know it actively pains me to address the topic of the original Polly Pocket Airplane. It was sleek, posh, and if I could circle it in a magazine at this very moment I would. To be honest, I could dwell on the subject for pages – but that’s not fun and/or punk, and I think someone at some point said that listicles do better than other formats because our attention span is so short. I’ve also heard that Amazon will soon own the world, so might as well lean into the end right? I’m already walking around with a hole the size of a doll’s plane in my heart.

1. Starting things off strong: This slightly too wide Cillian Murphy pillow. Versatile, sexy, eerie – the three musts for anything that goes on my couch. Now that I’m an adult, nobody can tell me what I can and can’t have. Besides, it’s not even that expensive. My parents made it seem like buying the Polly Pocket airplane was going to put us in a hole we may never get out of. Which, in retrospect, it being 2008 there was probably a lot of truth to that.

2. What’s better than real shrimp? Fake shrimp, because you can trick people with it. You know what can’t trick me? A knockoff Polly Pocket airplane. You can’t imitate a perfect design. My parents tried getting me a cheaper “Peggy Pantleg” Playset, but it a piece of crap and I think the plastic made me sick.

3. Who doesn’t need an all seeing lemon? Name me one person who doesn’t need an all seeing lemon and a Polly Pocket airplane? If American lawmakers actually served the people they would make it a law that every child should get a Polly Pocket airplane, it’s what this country needs.

4. Like all dolls in the 2000s, Polly Pockets had a very specific scent. I haven’t smelled this, but I have the feeling a blueberry muffin fabric deodorizer is the perfect match to knock me out of despair and back into a sweet (?) nostalgia.

5. If you’re reading this article I can confidently say you chewed on Polly Pocket shoes. I know this about you, don’t even try to deny it. The below product is the closest thing I could find, but I’ll be honest – they don’t look nearly as soft, chewy, or carcinogenic.

6. If you submitted to the truth of the last product, then I think I can confidently say you are a current chain smoker. The pipeline is real! Get some storage for those cartons you make your cousins from Georgia send you! You already are bereft of the one thing you want, so keep your vice fresh.

7. I don’t think this needs any explanation. Just set it up in a prominent place in your apartment and watch all your friends turn green with envy, but don’t tell them where you got it or else they will buy their own.

8. I know I’ve built up some tension from the jealousy I had towards my childhood BFF who did have the Polly Pocket airplane. So, I wanted to throw in a little something that might ease the tension – One of these torture machines to stretch your neck off your head. This also might by an auto erotic asphyxiation device in disguise.

9. Oh, you’ve read this far? Seek help. I’ve personally read the whole entire first page at least seven times and can’t keep going. But it sits on my desk reminding me that I will never find peace in this frantic world.

10. Don’t get too excited. In fact, chill out. This is similar, but it’s not the original. I know it says the “Polly Pocket Store” but although some products may seem consistent, the entire line actually shuttered in 2012 after their huge boom died down. Then, 11 years later, Mattel re-released a Polly Pocket line with some minor but significant alterations in the look of the doll and its accessories. Small edits to the body and face, making her look a little more like a Bratz Doll, as well as making the airplane white with pink trim instead of the classic orange with pink trim. Why these changes to an already perfectly built machine? I don’t know. Why would I know that? I’m a full grown woman-person who has a normal relationship to her childhood.

Liberal Puzzled Why 8 Years of Saying Trump Has Small Hands Didn’t Stop Fascist Takeover

Posted on by Tim Graham

TIVERTON, R.I. — Local dental hygienist Barbara McCall is bewildered why her years-long campaign of criticizing Donald Trump on Facebook for his comically tiny hands has had little apparent effect in stopping the rise of fascism in the US, according to sources from her book club.

“I don’t get it,” said McCall as she placed a new ‘Lock Him Up’ bumper sticker on her Yaris. “Since 2016 I’ve regularly posted really barbed jabs aimed at Trump’s appearance, as well as those picture-with-words thingies showing him looking like a clown or with a Hitler mustache. But it seems like my efforts haven’t done much to slow his rise to power. I’ve slung some real zingers, too, like Mango Mussolini, Orange Julius Caesar and Tannibal Lecter. Nothing seems to work!”

McCall’s daughter Jane says her mom’s incessant attempts at Trump jokes have taken a toll on her own mental health.

“I practically die of embarrassment every time my mom posts some cliched insult or low-effort Boomer meme about Trump,” said the younger McCall while peeking at Facebook between her fingers. “I can’t delete Facebook—it breaks my mom’s heart if I don’t ‘like’ every one of her posts. So, I hold my nose and do it. I’ve suggested ways she and her friends could have an actual impact, from joining me at a pro-Palestine rally to helping register new voters, but they all have excuses why they can’t do anything more than share played-out Trump jokes from their phones.”

Dwayne Cochrane, a comedian who specializes in roasts, has some advice for suburban liberals who attempt insult-humor.

“An effective insult needs to be based on a kernel of truth,” said Cochrane. “You can say Trump has small hands, but his hands are actually pretty normal in size. You’ve got to base your jokes on reality, but take care not to resort to low-hanging fruit. Don’t make fun of his fucked up hair or spray tan—that’s been done to death. Instead, focus on how he wants to have sex with his own daughter, or how his wife hates him, or lean into his rapidly deteriorating cognitive ability. If you insist on body-shaming, go ahead and work with that big ol’ dumper of his. There’s plenty of real shit to make fun of.”

At press time, McCall had begun posting AI-generated images of Kamala Harris in heroic poses, a development described by her daughter as not an improvement, but a “lateral move.”

Help! I Misread the Brat Girl Summer Trend and Now I’ve Got a Bunch of Hot Dog Costumes I Can’t Return

Posted on by Laura Lewis

Summer 2024 was supposed to be my summer. I’d worked hard all year, and by June, I finally had enough money to buy an all-new wardrobe. I opened TikTok for inspiration and there it was: brat summer.

A quick scroll gave me all the information I needed. Finally, a trend that combined my folksy sense of humor and my Midwest heritage—all while flattering my extremely long torso. Bratwurst summer was my ticket to fun on a bun.

4 costume shops and $3,000 later, I was the incontestable queen of brat summer.

It wasn’t until after I burned all my regular summer clothes in a trashcan in my backyard that I realized my mistake. Turns out brat summer has nothing to do with bratwurst, or hotdogs, or even glizzies. You know what else I found out? Costume shops in LA have way stricter return policies than names like Enzo’s Costumes Gag Gifts and Rubber Entrails Emporium would suggest.

So now, like a 7-11 rotisserie dog, I am just trying to roll with it. It’s not going well.

At work, I tried to make it seem like I was in on the joke. You know, “I’m going ham on the phones today,” and, “I’m not sure where that report is—don’t grill me on it.” That type of thing. But my jokes fell flat. And I can’t even take off the removable Velcro buns apparatus (I paid extra for that) because it’s so goddamn cold in the office.

On the weekends, I tried to play it up as a fun bit I was doing. I thought it would help me stand out in the dating scene, at least, but all my talk of raw doggin got me kicked out of the bar.

I even squeezed a pair of those little Charli XCX sunglasses over the head hole, but nothing helped. I alienated everyone within a foot long radius, everywhere I went.

Only at the minor league baseball stadium did I start to feel comfortable enough to be my glistening self. But that didn’t last long either. Before the third inning, I got chased off by the officially licensed hotdog mascot for Nathan’s.

All this to say, I no longer wish to be an Oscar Meyer wiener. The universe has taken one too many bites of me. Send help.

Feuding Drum Circles Put Differences Aside to Form One Big Unemployment Line

Posted on by Courtney Hill

SANTA CRUZ, Calif. — Two rival drum circles were forced to reconcile their differences and form one civilized unemployment line, sources willing to get close enough to the crunchy collectives reported.

“It all started when the two drum circles accidentally switched rainsticks in the chaos of, ironically, a sudden afternoon rain storm,” city parks monitor Joe Schultz explained while pulling a car battery out of a recycling bin. “Instead of admitting the honest mix-up they accused one another of stealing each other’s gear and since then it’s been a constant back-and-forth. One day they’ll be arguing over who has the right to circle up around the magic stump, the next someone will have put a curse on a didgeridoo and the cycle just continues. Of course, come 9 a.m. on the 15th of the month you can hear the bongos and timbales hit the ground as everyone walks across the street to file for unemployment. Then it’s right back to bitter rivals.”

Lead djembe player for one of the circles Dalton Higsby Chesterworth III, who prefers to go simply by Dust, wanted to set the record straight.

“The trouble with the rainsticks- which we did not start- is hardly the core of the dispute,” Chesterworth explained while untangling a pair of airline earbuds from his thinning blond dreadlocks. “Truth is, our percussion ensemble is the chosen voice of Mother Gaia. It is through our instruments that her message of peace and unity is amplified across all humanity. So when these poser clownbag hacks come rollin’ up to our sacred space to exploit our vibe stash with their rag-tag circle, we have to make them feel as unwelcome as possible in order to restore cosmic harmony. Lining up for unemployment is purely a necessary courtesy since I’ve renounced my parents’ fortune in pursuit of this ascetic path. Meanwhile I strongly doubt those other freeloaders’ right to a handout is any more authentic than their drumming.”

Meryl Koss, state benefit officer for Santa Cruz county, wasn’t the least bit surprised by the behavior of the feuding circles.

“Collecting government assistance has always been the great unifier of this country,” Koss explained with a reassuring sigh. “From clashing protesters to tense paramilitary standoffs, no cause is ever so righteous it’s worth jeopardizing the flow of dole. Beyond that, lots of relationships actually start in the unemployment line. Half of the folks from one of those drum circles are involved with someone from the other. It’s like an office romance for people without a job.”

At press time, the fueding drum circles once again set aside their differences to form one big line at a nearby water foundation to stave off dehydration.

Fossil Fuel Industry Blames Global Environmental Crisis on Denver Man Who Doesn’t Recycle

Posted on by Tim Graham

DENVER — A multinational non-renewable energy corporation is attempting to pin all of Earth’s environmental problems on an individual from Colorado, according to sources who are just glad it’s not them to blame.

“The oil, coal and natural gas industries are doing everything they can to mitigate the effects of their products on the environment,” said spokesperson Alexis Stevens while tenderly cleaning oil from a baby duck. “But all of our efforts won’t make a bit of difference if consumers don’t do their part. Our research shows that the majority of the world’s current environmental issues are due to one Stewart Dubois of Denver, Colorado. Mr. Dubois has repeatedly demonstrated his disregard for the welfare of the planet by consistently putting the wrong items in recycling bins, as well as by owning a grossly inefficient vehicle. For shame, Mr. Dubois, for shame.”

Dubois was taken aback by the accusation, but said he will attempt to lessen his impact on the planet.

“Gee whiz, I had no idea I was causing such a problem,” said Dubois. “I do try to recycle, but between work, taking care of my kids and volunteering at the food pantry I admit I’ve let it fall by the wayside. As far as my gas-guzzler: I promise I’ll sell my ‘65 Charger, as much as I love it. It really does have bad gas mileage. I only drive it a few times a year to the local car show and had no idea it was producing enough pollution to cause a global catastrophe! I appreciate the oil and gas people pointing out my failures, and I promise to do better.”

Environmental activists have pushed back against the oil industry’s attempts to pass the buck.

“This is just another cynical attempt by corporations to blame consumers for problems they’ve caused,” said The Sierra Club’s Greg Lambert. “Only five percent of plastic that is intended to be recycled actually is, while the rest is thrown away. It’s all performative nonsense meant to shame the public into thinking it’s their fault the Earth is going to shit. This is similar to when a desperate Bear Stearns tried to blame the 2008 financial crisis on a Missouri man who was a few days late on his mortgage payment.”

At press time, Dubois had promised to ride his bicycle 49 hours to an upcoming conference in Omaha in an effort to lessen his carbon footprint.

How to Reframe Eating an Entire Freezer Pizza in One Sitting Every Single Night as “Intermittent Fasting”

Posted on by Robert John Scucci

I think fad diets are as stupid as the next guy, but not all fad diets are created equal. I’ve recently taken to eating an entire large freezer pizza every single night as my only viable source of nutrients (along with 10 or 12 beers), which is not met with the positive reception you’d think. Since life is mostly a long game of bending the truth until it’s seen in a much more favorable light, I’ve reframed my binge-eating and drinking disorder as “intermittent fasting,” and suddenly everybody wants a piece of the pie.

Now, there are different variations of intermittent fasting that you should be familiar with before diving into the DiGiorno deep-end, and I’m going to give you the rundown.

There’s the “16/8” method, when you fast for two-thirds of the day, and then consume all of your calories within an eight-hour window. This is a good starting point, especially if you’re into day-drinking.

And then there’s the more favorable “23/1,” one-meal-a-day, or OMAD method, which is the one I subscribe to every single night as I plow through a Screamin’ Sicilian Stuffed Crust pepperoni pizza with two-and-a-half feet of cheese in the crust alone. After your sixth double IPA, compounded by the fact that you’ve not eaten anything in nearly a day, you may as well be eating paper, so this is easy eating.

Call it alcoholism and a poor diet, but I call it “half-in-the-bag macro hacking.”

And let me tell you, I’ve never felt better. My movements are more regular, even though bloody stool is an increasingly common occurrence. I sleep like a rock every single night because there’s so much grain, dairy, and meat sloshing around in my stomach that I basically fall into a state of shock before eventually waking up to the sound of my own screaming after yet another heartburn-induced, sweat-drenched nightmare.

Most importantly, I’ve lost about thirty pounds since telling everybody how I’m really just getting my steps in and tracking my caloric intake whenever they ask, “what’s your secret?” and I don’t want to answer with “throwing up first thing every morning and waiting until sunset before heating up another Freschetta flat-bread to gorge on in the darkness of my apartment.”

Just make sure you get a couple deluxe pies under your belt, because the green peppers and olives will be your only reliable source of fiber at this point, and you’re gonna need it.

5 Rare Cheeses My Apartment Smells Like Despite the Fact That I’m Vegan

Posted on by Reuben Blanchard

As a strong proponent of animal rights, as well as someone who understands the climate impact of large-scale agriculture, I pride myself on being a vegan. No animal products enter my domicile. That said, my apartment smells fucked up. But for those who take part in eating animal products, my apartment smells like a cheesemonger’s paradise. This has made me appreciate it a bit more because I get all the benefits of a cheese shop with none of the animal cruelty. So close your eyes and let your nose do the talking as we get to experience the aromas of high-end cheeses, without involving cows, sheep, or goats. Bon appétit!

Limburger

The classic and probably most known “stinky cheese”. Infamous for its strong, pungent aroma, Limburger is often compared to dirty socks. Which checks out, as I honestly can’t remember the last time I did laundry. I saw on TikTok that if you put your dirty socks out in the sun, the UV rays kill all bacteria in there. And as we all know, TikTok is always right. So I should try that. But I haven’t.

Roquefort

While I’ve never had it, my bloodmouth friends have told me Roquefort is actually quite delicious. However, it can have a strong, tangy smell that many describe as being similar to moldy or damp environments. So that makes sense since the tangy aroma of an expensive blue sheep cheese has been wafting from the pile of towels in the bathroom. All it takes is one post-shower use of my cheese towels, and you’ll be swept away on a magical trip to southern France. And then of course you’ll take a magical trip to the shower again because you’re gonna need some scrubbing to get that smell off. Sacre Bleu!

Vieux Boulogne

This cheese from coastal Northern France, is made from cow’s milk and has a washed rind that apparently contributes to its intense aroma. Many describe the smell as being similar to fish or even a large fish market. Vieux Boulogne has even been called the smelliest cheese in the world! Pretty amazing. What’s not amazing, is that I’m honestly not sure where the fishy Vieux Boulogne-esque smell in my apartment is coming from. I feel like when I stand near the radiator I can smell it the strongest. But it’s not coming from the actual radiator itself. And then sometimes when I’m on the couch, I feel like it’s wafting from the cushions. But after a solid sniff test, those cushions are a cheddar at most. But I suppose the key to keeping life interesting is mystery!

Taleggio

Mama Mia! This Italian cheese has a distinct aroma that some compare to earthy mushrooms and fungi. And I’ll tell you one thing: this fun-guy has had a crotch itch for about 5 months that’s whipping a Taleggio stank that’ll make even the most seasoned of Cheesemongers do a double take. Is it a fungus? Is it a rash? Is it just body odor caked on from years of playing basement shows with no ventilation? No one really knows. Including the CDC. Believe me, I’ve been contacted. But one thing’s for sure: my unwashed undercarriage smells like Italian cheese.

Casu Marzu

Our final entry is a traditional Sardinian cheese known for its pungency, as well as its dubious legality. This hard-to-find cheese is made by allowing fly larvae, otherwise known as maggots, to infest the cheese, which then break down the fats, resulting in a very pungent and sometimes fecal-like odor. Now before get you all judgmental: There’s no poop on my floor or anything gross like that. In fact the enticing aroma of Casu Marzu is coming from a wound on my leg. I open up my shin pretty bad, attempting to tre flip an 8-stair. Instead of going to the doctor I just wrapped one of my socks around it. But I think the sock has kinda fused with the wound. And I saw a documentary about how sometimes maggots can clean wounds, so… well you get it. Basically gourmands wanna smell my cheese leg, and I’ve got about 34 new wriggling animal companions. Talk about a win/win!