I am filled with seething resentment against the smug lid of the bottle of hot sauce that is my constant companion as I toil at my desk. The nozzle of the lid is covered in a primordial goo of hot sauce drops from many moons ago. As I reached out to give the bottle a reassuring pat, I touched the goo encapsulating the nozzle instead. Now, my finger is sticky and gummy and covered in primordial hot sauce goo from many moons ago.
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