Tired of the repetitive lessons on earth, and unable to shed my desire for something new to learn, I meticulously mapped out a grand adventure. My mother tried her best to dissuade me, insisting that Grandpa possessed a wisdom that surpassed everything in the universe, but I couldn’t ignore the itch that begged to be scratched. After fumbling my way though space, losing my entire crew, and finally landing on this fresh planet a few minutes ago, the inhabitants’ reward is to throw me into a lion’s den. They didn’t actually call the animal a lion, but the massive cat slumbering in the dimly lit corner bears a striking resemblance to one.

Being a good girl scout, I scan my surroundings. The first thing I notice is what I assume to be a giant kitty litter. The idea of a lion being house-trained to use a covered sandbox is so absurd that I almost burst into laughter. Fear of my life being in danger swiftly extinguishes any amusement. I take refuge inside the container; its walls providing a sense of security from the dangerous feline. Surely an enclosed litter box is safer than a lion’s den? Oh *cough* wait! The atmosphere penetrates my nose and mouth, mauling my senses. The odor, more like human waste than I would imagine from a lion, hot-boxes the container. Perhaps this is the worst scenario, after all. Yes. Undeniably the most dreadful. Hearing my stomach rumble confuses me because I have no appetite. My heart roars against my ribs when I realize the sound is not coming from my stomach. As my surroundings continue to rumble, I can’t help but wonder what the fuck is going on. Then the source comes into my view. Sharp, gleaming metal blades inching closer to me, their ominous hum filling the air. Shivers stretch down my spine. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, a self-cleaning litter box? The blades slice me in several places, but not enough to kill me. Pushed over the edge, I land with the other waste. While lying there, stunned, it dawns on me this was a trap all along. Surrounded by half-eaten and partially sliced human body parts, I realize this is a food grinder, not a waste receptacle.

Grandpa was right all along. No matter how bad things get, they can always get worse.