You never know what you’ll do. One moment every thought is flowing like high quality champagne and the next you’re perfect dish has been replaced by fuckin’ ants. Who the hell put those shits there? You start eating the ants hoping the steak and champagne come back but instead more ants are served, with a side of mucus brain! The hell is that? Eventually you start enjoying it, like you’ve been destined to do this all along. Hell, if I’m not eating them, who will?