
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.

"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!"

"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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