One of the most believed and used condiments in the world, ketchup is good on almost anything. From french fries to meatloaf, the near ubiquitous sauce is omnipresent in cuisine from fancy to broke college student. Yet, when one goes out to eat they should find that this nectar of the gods, this mixture of vinegar and tomatoes, is served in the most heinous and self destructive means possible: Ketchup Packets.

I hate you, and everything you stand for. You giveth and take with the same hand, each clutched to the sloppy piles of sticky plastic clinging to the bottom recess of every paper bag of every delicatessen in the inhabited portions of the world.

There is never enough ketchup in a single packet, yet gathering up small piles of the condiment serves no purpose save for making a mess inside the bag, because, inevitably, one of them is sticky and will attach its filth to nearly all the others.

There is scarcer a plague upon the mealtimes of global citizens than the rampant acquisition of your sticky fouling piles which inhabit the furthest and least cleaned corners of condiment buckets all over.

Each and every person who has lived and died has in some form or another interacted with your sad excuse for a serving of ketchup in their strange plastic packets. You are always sticky because a mysterious one exploded somewhere in the distant past like the germs clinging to the sides of a ball pit.

They’re always waiting, at the bottom of the brown bag like some of the refuse lying at the bottom of the fish tank wherein all the life of the entire aquarium fears to tread.

I love ketchup, the world loves ketchup, but we hate the delivery system. It gets on everything, like a relative who never leaves your house and puts smell everywhere. Ketchup gets on everything and then the terrible napkins most places have serve no function in the mitigation of the damage caused by leakage. It’ve seen too many pairs of white pants ruined by ketchup.

First it's just the leaky package, but then it releases liquid death upon upon all bright colored clothes. And there are no other red things in the world, so you can't play it off unless you’ve been stabbed. Is that what you want, ketchup companies? For people to fake mortal injury to avoid mentioning that they spilled ketchup everywhere? Because that is the kind of world you’re creating for us, and it is a terrible future if we have to fight against Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton, and Heinz as well.

And how do we clean up these horrible ketchup messes? With those awful napkins that they also dump on us that have the absorption power of a rock? One could have the Mexican Gulf Oil Spill on their lap because of ketchup packets exploding in their hands and all they have to mitigate the damage is repurposed toilet paper. Then if you’re in your car, you're also spreading ketchup around the steering wheel and rest in danger of it becoming stuck to the seat. Like the tragic heroes of Greek legend, we are trapped in an eternal suffering. Suffering you could fix but choose not to. You are cruel.