You're just about bursting with excitement, kicking your legs like a can-can girl, wishing you had on one of those crazy pastel aerobics get-ups that George Michael and that Andrew something guy used to wear, as you take hold of the glowing, hot CD. But, while singing the song may be a barrel o' fun, listening to the CD itself is going to positively KILL you. Goosebumps riddle your icky pale boy-skin and shivers dance up and down your spine as you and your friends run back into the cabin. You pop the CD into the stereo, set it to repeat only "Wake Me Up" infinitely, and begin what may very well be the biggest WHAM! blow-out ever imagined. Hours upon hours the song plays, as you, Mongoose and Frank-Frank dance around the cabin.

Night falls, and it just occurs to you how George was lying when he sang "cause I'm not planning on going solo", when there's a knock at the door. Mongoose goes to open it, and is immediately run down by a mysterious, brightly garbed stranger... on roller-skates.

"FOOLISH MORTALS!!" he cries in a voice that shakes the cabin. "I am GLAADiator, Champion of the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation, and Royal Adversary of Non-Conformist Queer Exploitation!"

"Wh-what do you want from us?" Francis mutters. GLAADiator turns his eyes on the trembling nerd, and in a flash of lightning Francis is reduced to a pile of ashes.

"SILENCE! I did not give you leave to speak, inter-gender deviant!"

"Master!" Mongoose exclaims, kneeling before GLAADiator. "I am of the Kind! Spare me!"

GLAAdiator regards him with contempt. "Yes... yes, we know of you, 'Mongoose'. Or should I say... LESLIE?" Mongoose mewls in pitiful terror, as if the very mention of his true name stabs him like a thousand daggers. "Now still your deceitful tongue! Until you are ready to leave the Closet of Pretenses, you cannot stake claim to your rightful heritage."

"Pardon me for intruding." you politely chide in. "But can someone tell me what in the good name of fuck is going on here?"

GLAADiator spins around on his roller-skates, and his eyes show kindles of fire. "What is going on, breeder-man? I'll tell you what is going on. According to my readings, there's a reckless excess of George Micheal in this cabin. I've been sent to quell it."

Suddenly, he notices the CD player. "A-ha." he says, stretches out a finger, and the device spontaneously combusts.

"You killed George!" you cry out in righteous indignation.

"No, YOU killed George." GLAADiator replies coldly. "Playing his music over and over again, sapping it of its life, its strength, its... power. But your crime shall not go unpunished."

At that, he begins waving his hands about in exotic gestures. The air suddenly feels filled with static, the room darkens, and you hear the clash of thunder in the distance. You feel yourself starting to spin around, being torn from your own world and banished to a parallel dimension. As you recover from the blast, you find yourself immersed in darkness. Somewhere close to you, very loudly, the music from the player selection screen on the NES Jeopardy game plays in a seamless loop. Stuck here without a body, you have nothing to keep you from going mad other than this monotone, ear-rending little tune. Just trust me when I say that it really doesn't take you very long at all to go mad.

AREN'T YOU GLAAD? NOW YOU GET TO START OVER!