Trigger Warning: bad French accents! The snobby French artist, dressed in her striped shirt, beret, and sheer nylon stockings, visits her vulgar American slave's homeland--only to sneer at the crude snacks that offend her refined palate. "Quel horreur," she mutters, but waste not: she binds him tight, his face a blank canvas for her art work.

She samples each treat--snack cakes, muffins, cookies, even chocolate milk with sarcastic grimaces, chewing thoroughly and spitting the mushy mix onto his face, packing and smearing layer upon layer into an abstract masterpiece fit for the Louvre.

His head vanishes entirely under the sticky pile. Satisfied, she leans in for a selfie of her humiliated creation, then leaves him there a slimy mess.