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Please don't feed PickleMan
Please don't feed PickleMan
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Choose Your Own Adventure: I-MOCKERY STYLE!


You lean in close to the bars of your cell and whisper to the guard, "Pssst! Hey man...this one time? My dad kissed Patrick Stewart."

The guard's eyebrow arches in interest, and he glances up and down the hallway surreptitiously before cautiously stepping up to the cell. "Really? On the lips?"

"Yeah."

"Did he say what it was like? You know, I've always thought that Picard was a better Captain than Kirk. More of a man's man if you know what I mean..." the guard goes on, not noticing your newly hired thugs reaching through the bars to grab him. They bash his head into the bars of the cell and he drops like a rock, unconscious, with visions of Patrick Stewart dancing through his head.

Hi Carrot Top? I'm coming to tear out your liver.
"I'll do much more than dance in his head!"

"Works every time," you say smugly to yourself. In no time flat you've grabbed the keys off the guard, and you and your newfound friends are making tracks away from the prison at lightning speed. By the time the guards get organized and figure out what happened, you're already well on your way into the neighboring woods.

You've been going through the woods for an hour with no end in sight when your large new friend says "I think we're lost, boss". You're inclined to agree. It's like you've entered a maze of some kind. The woods certainly didn't seem to be this large when you viewed them from the outside. There is definitely something wrong here.

You continue to wander, trying to find landmarks you can use as a reference should you be going in circles. Just then you hear a voice piercing through the trees. "Keebler!"

Shit! You immediately freeze in your tracks. "Look man, I already gave you cobbler! Just leave me alone, I don't have any more," you call out, eyes darting worriedly from side to side.

"No no no, I said 'KEEBLER', not 'COBBLER', asshole!" the voice calls back, annoyed. "Keebler!"

TASTY!
"Our shit. Your chocolate chips."

You approach the spot where the voice was coming from and as you draw closer, you see through the trees a tiny face poking out from a hole in the side of one of the trees. You then notice that it's a Keebler elf, those little guys that make those delicious cookies and snack crackers! "Heeeey! I know you guys," you smile as recognition dawns on you. "What are you doing here?"

"We fucking LIVE here, moron, what's it look like?" the elf spits back. "Now what the hell are you doing in our woods?"

"Well, we're kind of lost. Can you help us get out of here?"

"Maybe...for a price," the head elf answers back. You're close enough to see inside the tree now, and you notice a handful of other elves busily working to make their various delectable snack products. You almost think you notice one of the elves masturbating into the icing vat when the head elf snaps you back to attention. "Hey! I'm talking to YOU here, dingleberry! What can YOU do for me? Otherwise, why should I bother helping you?"

You have to stop and think for a moment. What could you possibly offer this guy? What do you HAVE that he could want? You don't have much of anything on you right now. You might just have to handle this negotiation with a little finesse.

CALLING ON YOUR VAST RESERVOIR OF DIPLOMACY SKILLS, YOU:

 




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