It's the Monday after Thanksgiving, and people have piled up a modest selection of pastry on the scavenger's table (the place where leftovers go to be instantly dispersed among the office jackals, vultures, and myself.)

There's a lovely, albeit storebought, apple pie. It's a pretty double-crust with four nice slits cut into its golden crust. It's also speckled with tiny circles of fuzzy blue and green eukaryotic life.

No thank you.

(finishes slice of pecan pie, specifically does not examine what he's eating)