I swear it started squirming as soon as Jane took it out of the oven. The smell hit me, and it hit me hard: it was like smelly socks dipped in old spinach and baked for an hour. Red, green, blue, and countless other colors mushed around into a nasty swamp green. Half of the blubbering mass was pure liquid, dripping off the plate and solidifying into blobs on the way down. A particularly larger blog managed to divebomb next to me, splattering its remains onto my new pants. The other half of the mass looked as hard as a rock and as porous as a sponge. Ooze, green and probably moldy, seeped out of the cracks.
"Would you like some?" asked Jane with a hopeful look on her face.
"No thanks," I managed to reply.
It was by far the worst hamburger I've ever seen.