This is not the time to stay in a hot kitchen, my friend. During the moon's waning, the mind is most sensitive to touch, light, and heat. Take Harry Horn for instance. On an afternoon just like any other, he visited a favorite haunt The Dusty Dish. The man needed some Dusty Gumbo. Instead of patiently awaiting the tasty shrimp and sausage slop, Harry was drawn to the kitchen, feeling a magnetic force pull him to the stove. Almost immediately there was an intense wave of heat. The salt stung his eyes and Old Bay crept into every orifice. He didn't know why, but one thing was very clear- it was time to have a chat with Peter. Whether it was the heat or pervasive Old Bay, Harry launched into an existential conversation with his soon-to-be supper, Peter the shrimp. Peter explained the upheaval of his simple life as the water began to boil. Plankton, seaweed, the occasional cruise ship roast- Peter enjoyed a beautiful life of pleasure. Harry started feeling sorry for him, but the stovetop melted butter made it easy to forget. As Harry began to peer into the shrimp's eyes, dizziness consumed him along with a whoosh of air and sound. As the restaurant din and a bearded lady came into focus, Harry realized the conversation with Peter must have been during a fainting spell. 'Ah well' he thought, 'better get me some of that gumbo before I start speaking to the dead!' After ordering, Harry waited with glee as the melted butter greeted his nostrils. 'How silly of me to think this shrimp had a story to tell, I should never go so long without eating.' Within moments the slop slopped its way out of the kitchen and onto the table. Merna carefully lifted the lid, releasing billows of steam. What the hell? Is that- no, surely it cannot be, Peter? Before he had a moment to think, the shrimp flew off the plate and fixed himself to Harry's schnoz. Harry panicked and started screaming, but the more he struggled, the more Peter burrowed. It took 3 women, a fireman, and two allen wrenches to free Harry's schnoz. With an empty belly and bloody face, Harry vowed to never visit The Dusty Dish ever again. We think he should also cool it on the LSD and make some hotdogs instead.