I was hungry. I had a grill cheese on the stove but I was impatient, and in my hunger-driven rage, I got the biggest tupperware bowl I could find. I then put in it an evil concoction of miscellanious foods that is composed of: canned corn, canned french-style green beans, canned green chile, re-fried beans, carrots, taco seasoning, dijon mustard, cheddar cheese, Jack cheese, cayenne pepper, and finally, salt. I don't know what I was thinking. By the time I was hald-way through, my grill cheese was ready, and in eating it, I became tame and my hunger-driven rampage has ceased. I no longer desired what I was creating. This event blinded my culinary skill. The lack of hunger prevented me from deciding on what I should add to my creation in order to make it delicious or in the very least, edible. I trudged through the birthing process of this abhorrent slime. Eventually my stamina failed me and in my weakness I gave up. I put it in the microwave to complete the culinary crime that I had just commited. Once it was warm, I took it out, tasted it and was dissapointed. In my shame I erased all evidence of this frankenchef wet dream, covered my creation on foil, and put it in the fridge in hopes that some member of my family may find it and actually commit the sin of liking and eating my failed cuisine abortion. I now sit here in shame. Console me, Flood.

I want to try that now.

Just make sure you don't put too much dijon mustard.

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PLOT TWIST: The bowl of crud is liked so much by your family that it becomes a member of your family.