It’s Friday, get over it.

Vincent was pretty sure that he was the first sentient pop tart, but who can be really sure of sentient beings anyways. I mean the definition is so subjective half the time scientists prove your purple velour couch is thinking about why you sit on it so much and the other half scientists prove your Cousin Barry is just another plush leather backed chair at the country club…scotch and soda please. Vincent wriggled his way out of the foil to discover a bright fluorescently lit kitchen, in true Douglas Adam’s fashion, he thought: “How do I know what a kitchen is?” Yes, it is improbable, but isn’t every moment.

He rose into the air, I’m flying he thought. No, Mary Sue of 8 years had lifted him up and placed him the toaster. Vincent thought: “Well, this sure is a dark place.” He was about to find how dark indeed. Red orange glow, it grew brighter and hotter, until he started to sizzle. “A pop tart is meant to sizzle and brown,” Vincent pondered”, it seems rather determinant that this should be happening to me.”

After a few painless minutes, he began to wonder; “What is pain? I have no nerve endings. I sure do know a lot for being just a mere pop tart!” Was Vincent merely a pop tart or was something more sinister going on? Mary Sue waited for Vincent to cool and then began to tear him apart and piece by piece devour him. “Fitting end for me being food, was it my purpose to be sacrificed just for this?” Vincent thought in the final moments of his existence.

Was Vincent food or is he no different than a telephone or a plastic wrapper or that drunk guy in the subway? The answer is that it’s Friday and get over it. Some questions are better off answered by people who are drunk and playing Halo at 10 pm.

SPOILER

Right at the end OF Prometheus, when the Arnold Schwarzenegger of the Pillsbury Doughboys was fighting the Giant Starfish I just wanted to stand up in the theater and yell: “TICKLE FIGHT!!!”