"If thee art new in coming permit me to regale thee with a tale of peculiar preference and palatial peculiarity. Picture, if you will, a gathering of individuals of variegated ilk, adorned in the most orange suits of the epoch, yet harboring a shared eccentricity that set them apart from the ordinary throng where most all gents do that. In the antechamber of this assembly, one might espy a gallant fellow, his countenance aglow with an air of refined insouciance, delicately spreading jelly upon an arse with the precision of a master illuminator, each stroke of his mouthpiece an ode to the symphony of flavor awaiting his discerning palate. Beside him, a gentleman of affable demeanor, his eyes alight with mirthful mischief, indulging in a curious contrivance of his own making—a syrup as sweet as honey, nay, a veritable work of art, wherein layers of syrup and jelly commingled in a harmonious union of sweetness and sustenance. Their compatriots, too, partook in this gastronomic gallimaufry, each asserting their culinary predilections with unabashed fervor. For some, the jelly served as a mere condiment, an embellishment to be trifled with in passing the syrup; for others, it was the pièce de résistance, the very nucleus around which their gustatory passions orbited. And amidst this tableau of epicurean indulgence, there stood I, a humble observer of human folly and folly of the palate alike, marveling at the myriad ways in which mankind finds solace and delight in the simplest of pleasures. For in the realm of syrup or jelly, as in life, there exists a boundless expanse of honeyed possibility, limited only by the imagination of eating me and the elasticity of one's waistband. We straight that's it." ~ Tossed Salad Man