In all the years when I did not know what to believe in and therefore preferred to leave all beliefs alone, whenever I came to a place where living water welled up, blessedly cold and sweet and pure, from the earth's dark bosom, I felt that after all it must be wrong not to believe in anything.
Khufu carefully picked out everything that ended with-o—Doritos, Oreos, and some chunks of meat. Buffalo? Armadillo? I was scared to even ask.