[...the fuck is a Ringo, since when do Vikings know about the Beatles — oh, wait, maybe he means the slug thing that slinks around the house sometimes.

He turns the box over, looking for a list of ingredients and presumably finding none because hey, hand-baked, there's no such thing as mass packaging. Or the FDA, for that matter.]

Hang on. Was this box sealed when you picked it up? Or are you telling me you bought food from a stranger with a top that anybody could open as many times as they wanted before you got your hands on it?