For Carcharodontosaurus's fantastically filthy bin-skin contest.

O Sour ones, hear my call,
Accept mine sacrifice for y'all.
A purple dude from far away,
In your kingdom, he will stay.

How I found this son of a scrub: The almighty sour ones came to me in a dream and commanded me to bring them sacrifice. They wanted a raisin man, and who was I to question their will? I only knew one place to find this fabled purple species, and that was infesting the wild vineyards of the land of California. California was 2/3rds of a continent away, but I wouldn't let that stop me. So I grabbed my sword off the wall and begun to jog westward.

Fortunately for my exhausted legs, I found a raisin man about halfway there, when I ran over this one in steamboat springs Colorado. Wasting no time, I grabbed it by the left ankle and dragged it back to the undisclosed location in the American midwest I like to call home. Back at my house, poised over my pool of lemon juice (a true ancient standard for any sour one devotee), I thrust my sword through its chest and let the foul purple creature drop into the cesspit of citric acid. The sour ones were merciful. They returned my blade.