When the spitefull bitches leave a fucking Cinnabon out on the counter, where they KNOW that at some point during the day I'm bound to trip and the thing will fall into my mouth and smother my insides with its hot* sticky cinnamon goodness and tasty evil.
What makes it worse is when they taunt me about it before hand. "Hey, fatty! There's danger on the counter. Don't let it accidentally fall into your mouth, fatty!"** And you can hear their raucous laughter echoing through the dark night, knowing full well that they've intentionally placed you in danger.
Oh, my cripes it's so tasty... soooooo tasty....
smothered in Cinnabonny goodness-- on the inside.
* because yes, it falls into the oven just prior to falling into my mouth. Shut up!