I must have had a drop still left on my lips when I gave my son a kiss before his nap. An unknown male came downstairs looking for the rest of the can about an hour later. His chest hair was flowing wildly and he was squeezing out of a pair of OshKosh B'Gosh overalls, something like Lennie Small. He threw open the door to the liquor cabinet, quickly cleaned out the rest of the tin can, along with everything else. He turned to me, punched me in the face and trudged out the front door leaving it hanging from the hinges. The warning label should have been larger. Also I no longer have lips.