Oh sure, you'll just make a running leap off your table and somersault through the window. That's sounds doable. Unfortunately, you forgot that you haven't done an ounce of exercise since you were kicked out of dodgeball in fifth grade for unnecessary roughness. You put your foot on the table and launch yourself toward the window, and get approximately halfway through your aerial somersault before you slam into the wall. Dumbass. Anyway, the crowd is just as stunned by your spastic acrobatics as they were with the employee disintegration. You seize the opportunity and limp out the door.

Outside, you demand an explanation from Lucky, making sure that you don't call him a midget and wind up being flash-fried like the waiter.

"Sorry, laddie, but I've always been sensitive about me stature. Ye see, back in the old country…"

Luck cuts his rambling nostalgia short when he spots someone pointing at him from across the street. You follow his gaze, and spot a group of children, pointing his way and giggling maniacally.

"Augh, ‘tis the wee ones! Well, I'll be a'runnin' no further!"

With that, the blue beams of light shoot out of Lucky's eyes once more, this time sweeping from left to right, slicing the children in half. You're caught in a mixture of horror and awe when you hear the sound of metal straining. You look up too late to see that Lucky's laser strafing has cut into a traffic light, which is now resting firming on your head, which has been forced through your shoulders, out your ass, and into the ground.

GREEN LIGHT MEANS GO. GO START OVER!