The door has a red crescent
and a round dent.

Something's written here in the same
color red.

Piling up the 300th day and night
From beyond the door,
cries of pain are heard

And the final destination
has become real
Though not a blessed beginning

What is this...barbecued dog?

Who the hell would make something
like this?

Furthermore, who the hell would
eat it?

There's something in the dog's

There's nothing else to worry
about here...

Other than "who the hell is sick
enough to do something like this?",
that is...

And even that, I'd really just rather
not know...

It's just a roasted dog anyway.
I shouldn't let that creep me out.

There's a disgusting smell coming
from the pot. I think I better keep

Rows of wine bottles.

I don't really feel like eating and
drinking stuff from an alternate
reality, OK?

There are plates on the shelf.
Nothing else of interest.

It's just a normal wineglass. There's
not much reason to carry this.