Eating this cold can of beans does not make me feel a whole lot like Rorschach. I thought that it might.
Let me try growling into it.
No dice.
For a second I caught a sense of being a bear marauding through a campsite, but I’m not sure that was a clear improvement over being Christoph and, regardless, I lost it.
I’m not having the best night.
Cold or heated, beans in tomato-ish water are not the most flavorful. They’re all right, but I should have aimed higher. You were supposed to fix everything, beans.
Fucking beans.
I think I’m on my period.