Escape And Seek Revenge On The Author!
Now now. What did I tell you about cheats and how much I hate them? How many times have I emphasized that you are NOT to use the “back” button, are NOT to cherry pick your answers and are NOT NOT NOT to lie about how you’ve managed to make it through my ingenious house of moderate horrors. Goddammit! I don’t have much in life, you know. I’ve only got my large Victorian house at the end of a quiet shady lane, my undying love for Justin Bieber, my sexually stirring psychopathy, and even a small amount of disposable income with which to set my traps, pay my Belieber membership fees and buy an endless supply of beta tapes.
But you, Asshole, you have taken advantage of my good nature and my generosity. You have come uninvited into my house and like all nightmare guests, you have as yet refused to get yourself killed in an amusing way. The fact that you are now lying about having obtained a book which we both know perfectly well does not exist in this story is the last straw, my ex-friend! You have added insult to injury for the last time and I am afraid I simply cannot let that slide.
In a puff of awesome theatrical-grade dry ice, I make my dramatic entrance in the Pink Room. Ta daaa! I am wearing a limited edition Bieber print tee-shirt over torn tight-fitting jeans, with a pink moptop wig and pulling behind me what looks like a small propane tank on wheels connected to some sort of tube. You stare at me in disbelief.
“Look, about the book…” you say.
“Silence!” I command. “I am so sorry, Justin. I will be with you as soon as I possibly can!”
“Let me go you creepy weirdo!”
“Oh Justin, I do so love it when you talk dirty. But as for you, I have just one thing to say and that is, ‘What is the most you ever lost on a coin toss?’”
“What! So now you’re quoting popular movies, is that it? Oh my God, how clever! I mean, could you get any more derivative? Everything in this house is an idea stolen from someone smarter, more hard-working and more original than you! And now you’re coming up to me looking like some kind of freak and acting all tough like you’re going to pop me with your little air gun if I don’t guess right. Ha! I’ve never seen anything so stupid in all my life.”
I sigh. “It’s nothing personal, really. It’s just that every healthy relationship needs boundaries.”
“What?” you exclaim, obviously disoriented by my answer. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“We need to balance the playing field, my friend. You have taken advantage of me and now the higher powers must determine your fate. If they favor you, I will let you go. If they don’t, well, I’ll shoot you square in the forehead with this here toy gun.” I turn around to my beloved Bieber and ask him, “Won’t you call it, Oh Great Bieber? Will it be heads or tails?”
“Wait a minute!” you object. “That’s not the way the story goes! That’s supposed to be my call! I should at least get to determine my own fate!”
“Not anymore. This is my version of the game, you see. Muahahahaha! NOW who’s being derivative, asshole?!”
Justin smirks at you as I take out my lucky nickel and prepare to toss it twirling and spinning into the air.
“Personally,” says Justin to you. “I really hope you die.”
Justin calls it!
« Go Back But you, Asshole, you have taken advantage of my good nature and my generosity. You have come uninvited into my house and like all nightmare guests, you have as yet refused to get yourself killed in an amusing way. The fact that you are now lying about having obtained a book which we both know perfectly well does not exist in this story is the last straw, my ex-friend! You have added insult to injury for the last time and I am afraid I simply cannot let that slide.
In a puff of awesome theatrical-grade dry ice, I make my dramatic entrance in the Pink Room. Ta daaa! I am wearing a limited edition Bieber print tee-shirt over torn tight-fitting jeans, with a pink moptop wig and pulling behind me what looks like a small propane tank on wheels connected to some sort of tube. You stare at me in disbelief.
“Look, about the book…” you say.
“Silence!” I command. “I am so sorry, Justin. I will be with you as soon as I possibly can!”
“Let me go you creepy weirdo!”
“Oh Justin, I do so love it when you talk dirty. But as for you, I have just one thing to say and that is, ‘What is the most you ever lost on a coin toss?’”
“What! So now you’re quoting popular movies, is that it? Oh my God, how clever! I mean, could you get any more derivative? Everything in this house is an idea stolen from someone smarter, more hard-working and more original than you! And now you’re coming up to me looking like some kind of freak and acting all tough like you’re going to pop me with your little air gun if I don’t guess right. Ha! I’ve never seen anything so stupid in all my life.”
I sigh. “It’s nothing personal, really. It’s just that every healthy relationship needs boundaries.”
“What?” you exclaim, obviously disoriented by my answer. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“We need to balance the playing field, my friend. You have taken advantage of me and now the higher powers must determine your fate. If they favor you, I will let you go. If they don’t, well, I’ll shoot you square in the forehead with this here toy gun.” I turn around to my beloved Bieber and ask him, “Won’t you call it, Oh Great Bieber? Will it be heads or tails?”
“Wait a minute!” you object. “That’s not the way the story goes! That’s supposed to be my call! I should at least get to determine my own fate!”
“Not anymore. This is my version of the game, you see. Muahahahaha! NOW who’s being derivative, asshole?!”
Justin smirks at you as I take out my lucky nickel and prepare to toss it twirling and spinning into the air.
“Personally,” says Justin to you. “I really hope you die.”
Justin calls it!