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When you come into being on the Elemental Plane of Compost, there’s only so far down your life can go, but Mrrgthop have plumbed it. Giving wormjobs for acetone in the bathroom of Chili’s would be a step up, if Chili’s didn’t keep their bathrooms so damn clean.

“How much?” they gurgle.

“You’re organic, right?” asks the customer, fingers twitching.

“Technically,” say Mrrgthop, “yes.”

“Sixteen ounces,” she breathes.

Mrrgthop stick a pseudolimb into the grinder and bag the result. “You know there’s no FDA-approved study that indicates–” they begin.

“Who the fuck cares?” says the customer, and downs a handful.