"What sorcery is this?" He dropped the strange, rectangular wafer. It shattered to the ground, crumbling but for the unnamable, fragrant ichor binding together its disparate parts in unnatural union.
"It's a pop-tart," she said, her deep, coffee-colored eyes meeting his wolfish blue-eyed gaze. "I've only got two, why'd you drop it?"
Spotty the Coordinator: The Lady of the Black Toaster