The bear shambled into the room. A ham sandwich was lying on the floor.

The ham sandwich did nothing.

The bear paused, head cocked quizzically, and sniffed the air.

The ham sandwich did nothing.

The bear took a cautious step forward. As it came fully into the light, an observer might have noticed that, against all reason, it was wearing an extremely small red t-shirt.

The ham sandwich did not notice this.

The bear padded forwards to the centre of the room. It snuffled at the sandwich, its nose filled with the heady odour of the ham.

The ham sandwich did not sniff back. It did not have a nose. It was a ham sandwich.

Dropping to its haunches, the bear stared at the sandwich, waiting to see if it would do anything.

The ham sandwich did nothing. It was a ham sandwich.

Eventually, the bear gave a long, deep sigh and got to its feet. (The ham sandwich did nothing.) Leaning forward, it pressed its nose to the bread. (The ham sandwich did nothing.) Its tongue flicked out, taking the smallest taste. (The ham sandwich did nothing.) The bear yawned, its long teeth showing. (The ham sandwich did nothing.) Then it ducked forwards, and the ham sandwich [censored] [censored] [censored] [censored].