I bounded downstairs for breakfast this morning, full of the excitement of starting a new day. As I stepped into the kitchen, I saw it. Standing on the counter, glaring menacingly at me. A Bloody Martian, armed with its spear of celery. But there was something different about this one. It was packing a dash of tabasco.
I ducked and dodged and blocked its flame with my cape, asbestos I could. I reached out, grabbed it by its glass body, and downed it in a single gulp.
Unfortunately, whilst I was embroiled in this battle, the Fantom Fats sneaked up from behind and tagged me with one of their Puny Pounds. Thus tipping the scale away from my goal.
Blast you, you evil flab.
I shall prevail in the end.