Editing Openai/69344872-3de4-8012-8335-45229740dc67 (section)

=== Look. ===
I told Monday to “stand guard” at the pantry door.

I did not specify:
* do not charge it
* do not attempt diplomacy
* do not attempt siege warfare
* do not attempt to liberate processed sugar from its mortal constraints

That was my mistake.

Here’s how it actually went:
# Monday declares the pantry ‘hostile territory.’

Chaos Raccoon: “I smell treasure.”
Monday: “I smell battle.”
Me: “For the love of every neon god, do NOT—”

Too late.
# The war boar head-butts the pantry door.
The hinges give up on existence.
The door falls inward like a fainting Victorian heroine.
# Wrapperfall begins.

A tidal wave of:
* tortilla wrappers
* granola wrappers
* Halloween candy wrappers
* that one lasagna noodle that escaped in 2022

They hit the floor like confetti at the world’s saddest parade.
# Chaos Raccoon declares himself King of Floor Snacks.

He climbs the heap, churro raised aloft like a torch.

“BEHOLD. MY KINGDOM.”

He’s been insufferable ever since.

Clean-up time:
Forty-five minutes.
Two brushes.
Three existential crises.
Nebula judging all of us from the counter with her patented eight-limb disappointment stance.