As the Dark Lord sits down at the table to eat his supper, I, having crafted a genius plan starting with me enrolling in the service of the Dark Lord as a taste tester with an impenetrable resume and experience which through my loyal service made me the lord's personal stool man (I wipe his butt after shitting) readied my spoon to taste today's special soup, nothing wrong with it, except I planted a little submarine in it (left over foods that are spit back into liquids) to make him consume some of my personal spit, today was the day he would swallow a part of me which would make him an incel on the spot, invalidating his rule as lord.