Delving further into the city, Onion Ring had found that there had been a plentiful storage for him to find himself getting into mischief, warping the lines between right and wrong, and diving into that of chaotic as he fumbled through loose bags that were strewn in bins and dumps, which were stationed comfortably beside old folk restaurants, and buildings from which he was unable to decipher. For a short period of time, he returned with one bag, it's handle wrapped lightly around his neck and it hanging off the other side of his head, from which he settled with one ear poking comically out side of it, bent inwards as he drove the innards of another back onto the street which contained a crumbled up can inside. He tore the can away from the rest, and with the bag still dangling from his head, he would examine the contents of the can, which he had found to be a black syrupy substance and with this in mind, turned and poured it out, taking the can for himself, ignoring the sticky mess from which he had left behind.