Escape And Seek Revenge On The Author!
You have entered the pink room, a feat made even more miraculous by the fact that pink wasn't even one of the three color choices you were just perusing in your laughably slow, illiterate way. What ever happened to purple, green and red?
There's really no time for you to mull this over, as the room in which you now stand is most definitely, overwhelmingly, nauseatingly pink. You sure are looking in the pink, you pink-in-the-parlor Mr. Pinkman! Are you a dude? Don't worry. Muscular dudes in Europe wear pink all the time and don't think twice about it. They let the six-pack do the talking, while a scrawny little bitch like you has to wear dark and foreboding colors to cover up what a nancy-boy he really is. Get a gym membership, you fat fuck!
Are you a girl? Grow up. Barbie has herpes.
So how the fuck do you plan on escaping the pink room? Oh god it's so pink! There are frilly pink bows tied to even frillier pink curtains, which, when you pull them aside, reveal...could it be?...bright pink bricks! You look left and right for an escape route. Stamping on the fluffy pink carpet, you are met only with a deluge of little pink feathers which billow up in the air, loosened by your barbaric galumphing.
As you are letting out your temper tantrum, you notice something strange in the corner. There's something not quite right about that dollhouse. For one, it's far too big. Secondly, you realize with a start that you can't actually see into any of the windows, as if it opened out onto the void. Is that a small breeze you feel coming from the little pink front door, left ever so slightly ajar?
Alternatively, there is a mouse hole in the wainscoting on the far side of the room. Maybe if you picked up one of those pink-clad Madame Alexander dolls and started smashing the shit out of it, you could open up a you-sized hole in the wall!
So which will it be?
There's really no time for you to mull this over, as the room in which you now stand is most definitely, overwhelmingly, nauseatingly pink. You sure are looking in the pink, you pink-in-the-parlor Mr. Pinkman! Are you a dude? Don't worry. Muscular dudes in Europe wear pink all the time and don't think twice about it. They let the six-pack do the talking, while a scrawny little bitch like you has to wear dark and foreboding colors to cover up what a nancy-boy he really is. Get a gym membership, you fat fuck!
Are you a girl? Grow up. Barbie has herpes.
So how the fuck do you plan on escaping the pink room? Oh god it's so pink! There are frilly pink bows tied to even frillier pink curtains, which, when you pull them aside, reveal...could it be?...bright pink bricks! You look left and right for an escape route. Stamping on the fluffy pink carpet, you are met only with a deluge of little pink feathers which billow up in the air, loosened by your barbaric galumphing.
As you are letting out your temper tantrum, you notice something strange in the corner. There's something not quite right about that dollhouse. For one, it's far too big. Secondly, you realize with a start that you can't actually see into any of the windows, as if it opened out onto the void. Is that a small breeze you feel coming from the little pink front door, left ever so slightly ajar?
Alternatively, there is a mouse hole in the wainscoting on the far side of the room. Maybe if you picked up one of those pink-clad Madame Alexander dolls and started smashing the shit out of it, you could open up a you-sized hole in the wall!
So which will it be?