You go off to a summer barbecue to enjoy some summer fun, snatching a burger from a table to munch on before the party realy starts. The taste of blood hits you as the burger gives out a mutilated bull noise, and you then realize that the burger was made by Jack Scalfani, currently gargling a tub of crisco with a mutated tongue, gurgling KEEETOOO amongst snatches of long dead Algonquin languages.