Imagine yourself in a Swedish garden outside a cabin (maybe red with white corners?) in a calm suburb on a weekend. It’s a few weeks into autumn and the rain has been falling for days, as have the apples from your neighbor’s tree. Now they’re lying there on the wet grass, calling to be turned into apple pie. You can’t resist.
Wearing your green rubber boots and flannel shirt, you pick them up and bring them inside.
You slice them, add some sugar, while the open fire cracks in the background.
The rain outside feels cozy, and all the autumn colors make your heart rush with joy.
Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door.
It’s Björn, your neighbor. He saw you taking those apples. He knows what you did last summer. He’s wearing an old-school hockey mask and hides his arms behind his back.
“I’m sorry,” you stutter, afraid and ashamed, knowing you just f**ked up.
But Björn isn’t that kind of neighbor. Nope, Björn is a good guy.
“I just thought you needed some cinnamon with that,” he says, revealing his hand. Fresh cinnamon, bought from an expensive store for just these moments. You smile, and together you finish the best apple pie ever made. Delicious, hot, and truly unique.
And then he murders you.
Shouldn’t have opened that door after all, should you, huh? The end.
(PS: Our Apple & Cinnamon pouch won’t kill you though. But nicotine is an addictive substance. Remember that).
