You know that feeling when your friend buys or makes you something that you honestly… hate.
You know, for example if you best friend came along and offered you some expensive plum bread that they bought with their own money; there’s no way you could turn that down. You hate it, but you eat it. Each bite offers a strange texture that simply does not
cut the mustard. Well, at least not effectively or efficiently for that matter. And probably with the wrong knife too!
Your friend, believing you love plum bread, buys another fucking loaf. You can’t go back now; you can't say you don’t like it otherwise they might think you’re some kind of retard. You then scoff down another loaf.
Anyway, you’re in too deep now and you can’t take back what you've said. The situation is very grave, and you have but one option. You slip out the knife you always carry around for situations like these.
“What’s that for buddy?” they say with a cheerful tone.
You slowly but surely push it into his neck.
“Ow,” he says before dying.
As if to answer your pleas, Batwhale floats
over the top of your friend’s house, which may as well be yours now. He lets a gush of milk out as he moans “Milk is good for your boooones.”
You cheer and pray and eat it all up; every last drop. Now this cuts
the mustard. You feel fulfilled and may never need to eat again. Your life is complete and Dorudon is your savior.
