Put me in a room where you promise that soon you will feed me to my heart's content -- as long as it is fried, laden with grease, or fried AND laden with grease. Fill the room to the ceiling with knick-knacks, gee-gaws, clothing and toys. If it isn't breakable, it makes noise. Add enough people to fill every available pathway, walkway, or breathing space. Mix in my own children to run past the breakable items on their way to make noise with the noise-making toys while complaining of how faint they are with their own hunger. Throw in other people's children to make noise with anything that my children aren't making noise with -- the pens with the cymbals on top, the toy accordion, or the "Chicken Dance" squawking chicken.
Welcome to my own personal hell. You may know it as "Cracker Barrel."
