"I can see the headlines now: Nothing will stop your inevitable, slow march toward death, you're gonna die, that guy is gonna die, whatever made this food already died; SO HAVE A PASTRY! Is that blood or rasberry jam? It's all decaying organic matter regardless BUT SIGN UP FOR THE TASTETEST; first five customers to pledge their souls get a commemorative travel bag! 'The Satanic/Illuminati bake festa; 'our fortune cookies reveal your greatest sins!'"

[Bill laughs, possibly enjoying this too much. Oh, there would be so many pentagrams; triangles and Pentagrams everywhere. His eye widens, a idea sparking.]

"Hmm- or here's an idea."

[Bill pulls out a tiny glass case, inside is small tinted orb-- upon closer inspection it isn't just some marble it is one of Bill's glass eyes- thankfully, one that is neatly polished and not at all sticky as most organs typically are.]

"Plant this somewhere at the right time and you're guaranteed a scandal."