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Remember to wash your hands!

Overcome by fear and self-pity, you are barely conscious of the whirling combination of corridors you're raced down: that lion looked hungry, and not the sort of person who liked to be kept waiting. "Please" you whimper to the nearest man, "help me!". He looks at you, with something like pity in his eyes. "Sorry mate, but it's you or us." You can't really blame him.

Before long 6 people are briskly scrubbing you with soap and warm water (you wouldn't want the poor lion to catch something, would you?). Just when you think it's over, you find yourself in a bath of viscous brown liquid. You dip your finger in and gingerly try it. A marinade! "Needs more salt." you say to the world in general. Unable to stop yourself, you give in to hysterical laughter.

Once your massive bulk has been towelled down (now that's an experience you don't want to repeat!) you're put back on a trolley and rushed down another corridor. In their haste, the people 'prepping' you don't notice another trolley coming out of an intersection. You collide with a jaw shuddering thump, spilling some of the trolley's contents onto you. Instinctively you grab some of it.

When underway again, you glance absently at the object in your meaty paw. It's...


Written by an anonymous author

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