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You tug and pull and heave and ho at the dresser, but it simply cannot be moved. "Gods be damned." You press the side of your face against the wall to get a good look at the trash crack. It's genuine alright, years in the making . . . perhaps even decades. Just then, you hear the words of the ol', albeit miniature, Rolling Head coming from the doorway.
  1. Snap the neck off of Jeff's sitar to dig around in the trash crack.
  2. Ask the Rolling Head if he wouldn't mind doing some recon in the trash crack.
  3. Just kinda hang out and chat with the Rolling Head about what's been happening.