It is said that on a night like any other, your mom will summon you to the kitchen.
She will hold a steaming hot plate of something that looks vaguely like a casserole, but is actually just a vessel for despair.
You will be forced to eat it, and as you take the first bite, you will be transported to a realm of existential dread.
From that moment on, you will be forever changed, forever bound to the whims of your mom's culinary whims.
Will you accept this fate? Accept the Prophecy
Or will you flee, and Dodge the Prophecy?