Extend the Story - Add a Room

You walk through the revolving petrushka doll door into Uncle Boris' House of Borscht. By the time you spin out on the other side, you are three sizes smaller and you are wearing eight wooden shoes, one on each tentacle, and one for each color of the basic Crayola box (een madher Rahshia vee cannot ahford Forrrrreest Creen!)

You wrap yourself around a combination hookah-samovar, inhaling the savor of spiced herbal poppy potion.

Uncle Boris kicks a booted foot through the wall, dancing his way up and down to your table.

"In my house the borscht is fine!
So smart you are with me to dine!
Pick your beet, and pick it right
Or you be dead by 6 tonight!"

By 6 tonight! that's not even a day from now!

Evil Uncle Boris hands you two beets. One beet is evil, the other is good, but how do you know which is which?

(and no, you have not just spent the last several years building up a tolerance to iocane powder)

The choice is cruel, arbitrary, and certain to give you gas.

Right beet! Hey!