You choose the seat next to A man with intensive third degree burn scars that smells vaguely of homeopathic deodorant.

"We'h He'o they, thon. I din thpeck to thee 'oo again, thath fo; thure!"

Oh god, Crispy's talking to you. You should have feigned sleep but now it's too late. His teeth shine terribly white against the charred bacon strips that were probably lips at some point.

"Oo don' 'eco'nize me. Not thu'pithed. Not much a me to 'econize, sinth oo made me crath muh car."

Oh my God! It's Dix! Dix Spickler, from the beginning of the adventure, that Homeopath who gave you a ride! The one who's car you ditched out of, scaring the poor bastard so bad he crashed! You'd left him for dead, never called the police or anything! What if he's holding an unreasonable grudge? What if, in some way, he blames you for the car crash you caused? What if he's only been able to stay alive by thinking of the terrible revenge he'd enact upon you if he ever saw your arguably culpable face again? Why are your clothes suddenly all soaked? Didn't the hypnotist and Susan Summers fix your 'little problem'? And why does everything smell like Lighter Fluid? Why is Dix lighting that match? Doesn't he know there's no smoking on public transportation? Is anyone hungry besides you? Because you smell barbecue, and it's really… OH, HEY, NOW, OW! OWWWWW!! OWOWOWOWOW! HELP! HELLLL-"

START OVER, DURAFLAME!