Like Trying to Find a Needle in a Muffinstack

My brother and I went grocery shopping today, and besides the wrongly priced Log Cabin syrup, the trip was, overall, very undeceptive. I did notice, however, while walking through the pastry section, which always involves a good, long look at the many deliciously sweet and lard-laden treats, that there was a box of twelve muffins with a broken seal. As I looked more closely, I saw that there was indeed a muffin missing and one that was only half broken--still salvagable. Another muffin had a needle hole in it and seemed to be oozing some sort of fluid. I am assuming it was boston creme.

My brother recently returned from his mission to Russia, and this incident led him to recount a mission story, which about three out of four things do for people at his stage.

Limoncito: "One time on my mission we found a bloody syringe in our borsch."

Limon: "No way!"

Limoncito: "Well, it could have been beet juice, but I'm pretty sure it was blood."

Limon: "Oh." Slightly disappointed. "I guess a syringe is still pretty gross."

Limoncito: "Well, it could have been a potato, but I'm pretty sure it was a needle."

Limon: "You're not very bright, are you?"

Limoncito: "I just don't have a very keen sense of taste."

Limon: "So you ate it anyway?"

Limoncito: "I was hungry."

Note: This story is only loosely based on reality. I am leaving it up to you, the reader, to decide what is true and what is not. It's like a choose your own adventure book, except without all the page turning.