Once upon a time, there existed a fair-haired lad named Gregor, who sported a perpetually forlorn countenance. Gregor, a student at the prestigious Bogus School, was well aware of its celebrated alumnus, Johan Isen. Glancing at the clock, which stubbornly displayed 11:03.5541320231452154, he mused, "Almost time for lunch."
In a sudden turn of events, Hans T. Pliable barged into the classroom, weariness etched into every line of his face. Gregor couldn't help but speculate that it might be due to the daily ordeal of enduring Baugaard's relentless backshots. Hans approached Gregor and knelt before him, uttering, "Hey balls, happen to have a buildinglunch?"
Gregor let out a resigned sigh, conceding, "Yes, I do possess a buildinglunch."
"Would you consider trading four backshots for one buildinglunch?" Hans proposed.
Exhausted from the relentless backshot saga that had consumed the past 50 hours, Gregor retorted, "Nuh-uh."
Hans, now seething with fury, threatened, "I'll subject every atom in your body to the ravages of concentrated sulfuric acid!"
Driven by instinct, Gregor swiftly launched a kick, propelling Hans directly into a pool of sulfuric acid, which promptly ate away at his thighs, reducing him to a mere memory. "Damn, I should never have trifled with Gregor," Hans lamented, his voice fading as he dissolved into nothingness, transformed into zaza gas.
Gregor found himself fixated on a single thought: "When you outside and you smell that zaza."