Man, this brings back some memories. Memories of being taken to the Great Perfectly Round Pit Of Blackest Ichor in the back of my Church Of The Blackest Ichor youth group leader’s Fiat 1800 wagon, being fed from a dense hockey-puck-like cake set on a large slice of prosciutto, and being left there to fend for myself among the fire weasels that crawled out of the pit at night. Good times.