You gently push the hand out of your face. Tears run down the woman's cheeks as she turns back towards her room. You feel bad, but there was no way you were going to oblige.
She quickly re-enters the bathroom with a gun and shoots you in the stomach. As you lay on the floor, trying to stay alive, she puts her finger in your face and asks you to pull it. You beg for help, but she is unresponsive. With your dying breath, you grab her finger with your blood-soaked hand and pull. She farts, and again captures the fart in her hands. She holds it up to your face.
You smell it.
GAME OVER. YOU DIED, BUT YOU REACHED NIRVANA
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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