Here we are at the beginning of a brand new...
H A Gtm
H A Gtm
H A Gtm
You are carrying:
>look in paper sack
>remove flashlight from sack. smell coffee
you remove the flashlight from the sack to your hand. The coffee smells like almonds. It is still warm.
>dump coffee into sack
You dump the coffee (still warm) into the paper sack.
It holds the coffee better than you expected.
* WHACK *
you rub your head in irritation. You spilled the coffee all over yourself; it was your 'airbag' between yourself and the tree.
* rustle rustle *
you push your way through medium-dense bushes.
It's still dark!
>turn on flashlight
You are standing in the middle of a large mulberry bush. Around and around it a weasel is running, being chased by a frantic monkey.
As soon as they realize they're being watched, the weasel squeals and disappears with a "pop". The monkey bares his teeth in a friendly gesture and ambles up to you, offering his overcoat.
It is still cold, you see.
>graciously accept overcoat. Offer dead battery
You take the monkey's overcoat and this delights the monkey more than is possible to convey fully in words. He screeches and squeals in pleasure, dancing about the bush holding his head in his hands and defecating in his excitement all over the place.
when you offer him the battery, he nearly has a hernia.
He eats the battery after wrenching it from your hand.
You leave the (possibly insane) monkey behind you in the cold, dark woods.
Now you are standing in an open clearing, in a patch of moonlight. You probably can turn off your flashlight. SUDDEENLY you hear a voice!
-- Hey buddy, how's it going? the voice asks.
>look up. Ask "Boomer, is that you?"
You see the moon.
-- why, yes! It is boomer! I'm the one! the voice exclaims, happily.
>Ask "What the hell are you doing here?!". Look south
-- bothering you, Boomer says, matter of factly.
to the south you see the ghostly form of Boomer, transparent in the moonlight.
>Ask boomer to fix my alarm clock.
You hand the alarm clock over to boomer, but it passes through his hands. It hits the ground with a crash, ending up more broken than before.
-- oh yeah, chuckles boomer. I'm dead.
>Say "No shit. How long?"
-- a while now. Tell ya what... he pauses, appearing to think, staring through you. This is what you have to do; go for a swim in the sea. In the deep, snotcolored sea.
>say "Okaayyy..." Slowly head east, making no sudden moves
-- UNDER the OVERPASS! OVER the UNDERPASS! AROUND the future and BEYOND REPAIR!! boomer shouts at your back. WHERE do you think you're going, anyway?
>Yell "Why, the snot-green sea!" keep going east, more rapidly now
-- the ocean's to the west! Well to the west you should go, in quest of your tumptytumtoes!
>Say "Yeah but I need my trunks!" RUN east
You leave boomer in your past. Well in your past, hopefully.
You have now run upon a road. There is a house across the street from you, to the east. The lights are on, and nobody appears to be home.
>Conspiratorially whisper "all RIGHT!" Knock on the door of the house.
The door creaks open invitingly at your first pound.
The decorator of this house chose colors which ran the gamut between light brown and dark, dark brown. Everything you see in the house has either been painted brown or is wood colored. The space which you are looking into appears to be some kind of an open dining/kitchen space, with a large oaken table at the center of it. A couple of open letters and a book lie on the table.
>grab and read one of the letters
the first letter you grab is addressed to the president of France.
It reads, in part:
Dear President Chirac,
I, for one, would like to express my heartfelt support for France's nuclear policy. There are far too many Polynesians as it is, and, speaking of children...
>rip up letter. Check out the second letter
confetti dances through the air and falls upon the floor.
the second letter is addressed to-YOU!! -- well, not exactly. It reads, in full:
To whomever ends up reading this,
We should let you know that this house has been deserted. We don't intend to come back, ever. Have fun in your new abode!
-the former ResidentsP.S. never mind the bloodstains in the bathtub; it's just from back when our friend phil got in a bit of a scuffle with wanda
>look for exits. grab book.
There are exits in every (cardinal) direction.
You grab the book. It is a copy of "Orlando" by Virgina Woolf.
>throw book north. north.
The book lands on the carpet in the hallway with a soft thud. You are now standing in the well-lit (brown) hallway. You get the strangest sensation that you are tunnelling through some enormous turd.
"Orlando" lies at your feet.
>look ceiling. n.
It is brown. (What else?)
There is a door at this end of the hallway. It is open.
>look through door. take off shirt
Inside the room, there is a bed and a nightstand, and, incredibly, a faintly androgenous human being lying in bed. You would guess that it is female. S/he is asleep.
This house is supposed to be deserted!
You pull your shirt off over your head. It is rank with your own armpit odor. Somehow this is not an altogether unpleasant smell. An ancient proverb comes to mind: "Every man likes the smell of his own farts."
>I don't. Yell, loudly, "EYEBALLS!". Drop shirt. Head back south.
It stirs in bed, opening its sleep-gummed eyes slowly. "You're the one he sent, huh?" its unmistakably female voice questions you. She is really thinner than it seems possible for a human being.
You drop your shirt and head back south.
>keep going, into the dining room.
You are now in the open entrance area, standing in front of the eating table. the kitchen is to the east, and the front door is to the west. There is another hallway to the south, and a staircase to the southeast.
You hear a faint stirring behind you, and the girl calls your name, uncertainly.
>say "Who're you?" over shoulder. head south.
"My name's Andie."
This hallway also is brown. There are a whole series of open, empty closets here.
>Ask "You're not Andie McDowell, are you?!". Dodge into a random closet.
"Actually," she says, "my full name is Andie Anna Livia P. But you can call me Andie."
You find that you have to scrunch yourself into a lower shelf in order to dogde into a closet, which reduces your slickness points somewhat, but you manage to dodge fairly well, anyway.
Andie walks over in front of the open closet. She doesn't seem to think it strange that someone would scrunch themselves into a closet shelf on a whim. You look at her sideways, since it is impossible to straighten your head in the limited space. She pulls her light blue silk robe closer around her. "How's my dead brother?" she asks.
>Say "He's gone completely crackers." Exit closet. Fall to floor.
She appears uninterested.
"Is that so," she muses. "What about my monkey? I see you're wearing his overcoat."
She steps gracefully out of your way as you thump to the floor.
>Attempt, rather blatantly, to look up her robe
"Oh, you like that, do you?" she runs her hands through her short blonde hair. "Whatever."
>Feel dumb. Stand up. Say "You can have the overcoat back if you want."
"What good is an overcoat without a monkey?" she glances off to her left.
"Thanks anyway," she says dully. Then, she surprises you by giving an enormous hug for no reason whatever.
"You haven't seen Tim around, have you?" she asks over her shoulder, seeming as bored as before, walking back towards the kitchen.
>ask "what the HELL's going ON HERE?" Walk after Andie.
"Well, I imagine Boomer only spouted nonsense at you, so it only makes sense that you're confused, huh? Boomer is my dead brother. Tim is a friend of mine who is a master mason, though he tends to drink a bit. (Nearly got him killed one day, his drinking habit did. Fell right off his ladder while putting up a brick wall.) Lazarus is my pet monkey, but recently he's gone fairly insane. His recent obsession is with gratitude, it seems.
Oh yes, and me.
We moved in here after discovering the house vacant. We found some silly letters on the table and a book, but left them there."
She pours herself a bowl of Sugar Frosted Rooster Feet tm, and looks you up and down while she thinks you aren't looking.
>Say "You're not eating that, are you?!" Head east.
"I especially like the crispy LARD PUFFS."
You can't go east!
"Say," she says, unenthusiastically. "You wanna, you know?"
>Ask "You don't leave the house much, do you?" Grab bowl of cereal!
"Hey! That's not cool."
She walks over to the cabinet and pulls down another bowl, which she promptly fills with the vile cereal.
"You coulda asked if you wanted some. Jeez."
The kitchen is bleak and brown. Brown cabinets, brown dishes, brown sink, brown tiles, brown grout, brown floor; even brown potholders and egg-timers.
You get that funny sensation of being mired in a sea of shit again.
"You know," she says, "I didn't start off female. I changed my sex 200 years ago. I died sixty years ago for my daughter's honor. And here I am!" she smiles. "I feel like having sex. How about you?" she swallows the lard puffs, looking strangely uninterested in life in general, much less sex.
>say "funny, you don't LOOK that way." Walk to front door.
"Oh, you think that, do you?" she runs her hands through her short blonde hair.
You are now standing at the front door. The sun is beginning to rise in the east, behind you. You see a burly looking man walking up the way with a smile on his face. He has a hod slung over one shoulder.
He looks really friendly. Not to mention: drunk.
> Call to the man "Andie's hot to trot in here." Dive inside, up stairs.
The man laughs loudly. "Andie's a good lass!" he shouts.
You !dive! inside, and hit the floor extremely hard. As you attempt to scramble up the stairs, you feel a stong hand grab you by the shoulders and straighten you up. He literally picks you up and turns you around with one hand and smiles in your face with rotten teeth.
"Tim's my name," he laughs. "Tim Finnegan!"
>Predict a grim future for Tim. Call to Andie.
"Your future looks grim," you say to Tim. He laughs, and lets you go, seeing that you're straightened up.
"Already broke my head once," he claims. "All it took was a bit o' the old Guinness to straighten me up!"
"Andie!" you yell.
Andie drudges over to the two of you. Tim brushes you off fanatically.
"Can't be havin' any dirt on ya, there!" he explains.
"What is it?" Andie asks of you.
>Say "If you wanna 'you know', then do it with him!" Point at Tim. Run SE.
"That's a disgusting idea," she says.
Tim grins stupidly.
You dash up the stairs to find...
It's beginning to get a bit sunny back here, but it's still cold. You see the faint outline of a monkey sleeping in a tree close to the porch.
>lean out over railing, reeeaal close to monkey.
The monkey smells absolutely terrible.
>Say "Psssst!" "I ate your coat!"
The monkey wakes up, and looks at you with a bemused expression on his face.
"Oh, ate my coat, did you?" he asks of you, pulling a cigar and lighter from a hole in the tree you didn't notice before. He puffs to light it, blowing the smoke up in the air.
"Was it good?" he says in his resounding British accent. He doesn't appear truly interested in the answer, like a true aristocrat.
>Abruptly reach out and shove the monkey hard enough to knock him off tree.
The monkey is surprised for a moment, but grabs the branch hard with feet (opposable big toes, remember?) and swings back around, pressing the lit cigar into your face, burning you.
"Now, that wasn't very cricket of you, was it?" he demands.
>Attempt to kiss monkey.
He begins to talk in a seductive female-sounding voice and "french-kisses" you. Now he's being affectionate and clinging all over you.
>Decide that I've had enough of him. Dive over porch railing.
The monkey will not let you go, however, and grabs onto one of the tree branches with his arms, swinging you back onto the porch with his feet.
This is one slick chimp.
"Now, now," he says, aristocratically again. "No need to commit suicide, for Christ's sake. Homosexuality is positively rampant in the animal kingdom, I hear."
He puffs again, thoughtfully.
>tell monkey: "Actually I gave your coat to Andie. Now bugger off."
Now you're talkin' in language he can understand!
"Oh, Andie!" he says, giving a deep, throaty chuckle. "She's a good lass."
"Tell you what," the monkey says, whispering and glancing around craftily.
"I've got a bit of wisdom you might like to hear before I bugger off. How's about it?"
>say: "Fine. Promise you'll go away." Walk NW.
"Okay, here it is: 'a not unblack dog was chasing a not unquick cat down a not unpaved road.' Nice, isn't it?"
The monkey then dances a little dance all around you before diving straight off the porch and seeming to disappear completely.
At the foot of the stairs, you find Boomer, and Tim. They are involved in a heated discussion.
Tim laughs at every point when every other normal person would yell in frustration.
Andie is nowhere to be seen.
> * change identity *
The wavery form of Boomer holds up a palm to shut Tim up mid-laugh.
He moves a hand to a ghostly ear. "That accent was a mite thick. What the heck did you say again?!"
Tim looks from Boomer to you and tries to keep from exploding with mirth.
>"why did you die?"
Boomer looks dissappointed. "Oh." He frowns. "Well, it was obvious really. A handful of hominy grits can only feed one for so long."
Tim hee-haws a laugh over this exchange and leans amicably on his hod. The business end is making streaks on the listless brown carpet.
>search house for Andie.
Which direction would you like to search in first?
Boomer holds his palm up to Tim again, and they resume their "argument".
You rotate and amble south. The carbon-copy brown closets scroll by to either side. You feel as though you're in a fun-house of manure. You fail to locate Andie. At the end of the hallway you encounter a door with a wooden handle shaped like a ship's wheel set in its very center.
Boomer and Tim can be heard arguing and hee-hawing to the north, respectively.
>search the bedroom for Andie
You rotate once again. The closets float by. Soon enough Tim and Boomer float by. You pass through Boomer's outstretched arm as he tries futilely to make an obvious point to Tim.
Their voices fade as you move down the hallway and into the bedroom.
You never noticed that the wallpaper was of broccolli in this room. Mayhaps because it is still brown like everything else. You find an Andie-shaped indentation on the bedsheets, but no Andie. A small bathroom door on the eastern wall is open a crack.
>knock on bathroom door.
You parlay over to the door and rap your knuckles across the brown paint. You ears are immediately filled with the rushing noise of a toilet. You can hear nothing else over the sloshing din.
>wait until toilet is done.
You stand outside the brown door on the brown carpet under the brown ceiling for a good five minutes, during which you hear naught but sloshing water and rattling drainpipes. This may take a while.
>Peer into the doorway discreetly.
You slowly work your head around the open door and see
A chocolate-brown tiled bathroom has all the amenities of a first class outhouse. There is a huge porcelain toilet on the far wall and nothing else. A long rust-brown chain dangles from a hole in the ceiling over the massive pot. You notice all this peripherally, though, for your gaze is locked on what appears to be a foot and most of a calf spinning round and round upside down in the toilet.
The two disappear and the sloshing stops.
You notice a blue robe on the floor.
>shrug. say to self "Hmm. That's too bad. She was kinda cute. Brain-dead, but cute.
Go back to the Captain's door.
You shrug and tell yourself what you think. You point to yourself, saying "Y'know what I think, Skot?" You feel abruptly bonkers. The sensation passes.
>hed bak to KePtAin's dor
I beg your pardon?
>head back to the skipper's door
NOw just where the fuck is the skipper's door?! Cartesian directions, please!!
From the south you hear three loud bangs in sucession, followed by two loud thumps, one slightly softer than the last.
>exit bathroom. North.
You're not in the bathroom. Spud boy. *thump* your knees bump into the foot of the bed with the Andie-shaped indentation in it.
You're back in the hallway. You smell plaster in the air.
>head south cautiously.
Something odd has transpired in the entry hall. Tim lies here in a big smelly heap, impaled into the floor through his chest with his hod. A large brown puddle is spreading beneath him. You count three holes in the ceiling above Tim's corpse, and see a brick almost at your feet with a brown stain on it. Boomer has vanished. You hear scuffing noises to the east and (oddly enough) hooting noises to the southeast.