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
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
Ignore the hype. Find out how these games will likely go right or wrong.
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.