* You accidentally get locked inside your bathroom, which is full of mosquitoes.
* The mosquitoes keep trying to bite you but, just as you start trying to swat them, you realize that they may become your only source of food as the time inside this small bathroom wears on.
* You also realize that you are the mosquitoes’ only source of food and they will die if you stop them from drinking your blood, possibly depriving you of food in the future. So you take off your clothes, sit tightly on the toilet with your eyes clenched, and suffer mosquito bite after mosquito bite, just to fatten up the darned insects, so that you will have something to survive on when you begin to starve to death in a few days.
* Then, a couple hours later, when you’re covered in mosquito bites from head to toe, your buddy Ralph comes by and unlocks the bathroom door.
* All the vacations to Belgium and France are booked up for spring break, so you settle for a trip to the slums of Colombia.
* Determined to still experience the taste of some fresh croissants purchased from a local bakery, you walk around the streets of Colombia until you find a bakery with a sign outside reading “We Are A Local Bakery Serving Fresh Croissants, Much Like A Similar Bakery Would In France.”
* You enter the bakery and are viciously beaten with a plastic bag full of stale rock-hard Kaisers.
* You accidentally get locked inside a bathroom in a local Colombian bakery while attempting to buy a lemon tart.
* There are no mosquitoes inside this bathroom which you could fatten up on your own blood to eat later.
* There is, however, a ruthless baker covered in tattoos named Salianto inside the bathroom, who proceeds to pummel you to death with a bag full of stale rock-hard Kaisers and a comically large rolling pin.
* At your funeral, your friend Ralph does the eulogy, and he tells everyone about how you were killed by being beaten with a bag full of stale rock-hard Kaisers and a comically large rolling pin.
* Everyone laughs, and a few people make rolling-pin gestures.
* During the funeral, your long-lost brother Raoul, separated from you at birth, runs into the room with a suitcase in each hand, a scrapbook with old newspaper clippings hinting at your whereabouts, and two tickets to France for spring break.
* I’m not to blame here! Who knew that a ruthless baker would beat me to death inside a Colombian bakery? Nobody, that’s who. Your pointless morals certainly didn’t warn me. Don’t eat croissants? What kind of moral is that?
* If what you say is true, then this should probably kill you once and for all.
* Ralph? Is that you? Thanks for letting me out of the bathroom, man, but seriously, what’s up? The funeral thing was pretty funny, but these shenanigans have gone too far. A joke’s a joke, man. Ralph? Lay off it. Please just let me rest.
* Raoul, no! But why! Why!