A distinguishing rip can take hold of even the sturdiest of papers on nights bold enough to take cake anywhere in a tri-state radius and drop it off without much pain or pleasure, really no sensations or emotions involved whatsoever–a rip that would stall the progress of a kitchen sink massacre that’s been brewing for nigh on seven years now. A cow skull will take its place atop the pantheon, a grisly reminder of our unstable diets consisting of way more meat than we’ve ever needed as a species at any time prior.