Imagine you just spent the last 17 hours obtaining all of the most critical and palatable ingredients to bake a cake so succulent that God himself would quiver at the chance to fork a bite. Imagine that you frost this cake with sugars acquired from an indigenous tribe somewhere in some enchanted forest far far away. This cake is so warm, so buttery, so full of tasteful rhapsodies that one must undergo immense spiritual cleansing in the land of Koh Samui to taste but even a crumb.
Now imagine that a little bird sashays haphazardly through a little opening in the kitchen window and turns it's little head to your miraculous little cake. It hops three hops toward the pastry and raps at the corner of the treat and, behold, the heavens open, a great flooding light shines down, and there, fork betwixt two mighty fingers is one heavenly creator bemusing the colorful little creature for tasting on your dessert.
And God said to that little bird,
"Lo! Do not be afraid. Come up here for I have a heavenly milk and a CD that plays Lalagray on repeat!"
And the bird went, and it was good. And you saw that it was good too...
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