Want to know what I saw today? It was horrible. A massacre of the worst scale. As I walked to class I was brought to my knees. I saw it laying there. Crushed, destroyed, murdered, and shamed. There in front of my two walking feet sat a crushed Ranch packet. Its top opened, its contents scattered about in the ugliest of fashion. The sweet, bitter, creamy, thick dressing flowed out of the packet like a bleeding carcass. There was nothing I could do, but watch as a close friend of mine dressed out on the warm Baltimore pavement. What monster could have done this. It reminded me of muffin top girl. Look at the first post to relieve that horror story. I decided that the tale of Mr. Ranch must be told. As a warning to other .$58 cent packets of Ranch, beware of the Hidden Valley Slayer....
I wanted to get to the bottom of this murder mystery salad. I wanted to get inside the mind of the Hidden Valley Slayer. What was his beef with the buttermilk infused salad dressing. What had the farmers on Hidden Valley Ranch done to push this man towards slaughter. It was necessary to dig deeper, look harder, and harvest answers.
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