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Two impressively well-manicured hands clamp around your neck and slam your head backward into the floor. A third sticks its thumb up your nose. The weight of what feels like an obese cat pins your legs to the floor and a skeleton tail flicks back and forth in the air. She looks like she conditions her hair.

"You idiot! I've been hiding up here for hours, suffering through those grotesque buffoons' smelly sweat session, waiting for the perfect moment to crack that safe and get back what's mine!"

You shift under her furry weight and try to wiggle her thumb out of your nose. "If you're looking for the D6 of Destiny, you're out of luck, scary-fur-lady. I already rolled that baby. Got me a nice bottle of whiskey…"

"Not the die you moron! Simon! The TURTLE."

You barely remember there being a turtle, and especially don't remember him introducing himself as Simon. You really wish there was more whiskey...

"UGH. I teach a third-grade magic class on the Isle of Wizard Injustice. Several weeks ago during a wizard-parent-teacher conference a parent by the name of Jeff didn't like what I had to say about his son, Joff, and he absconded with the class pet, Simon the Glowing Turtle. I chased after him but he flew off on a janitor's mop, yelling something about jamming dice into that poor turtle."

"Heh heh, Jeff. He is a real weird dude," you laugh drunkenly, "he sounds like he knows how to part–"

The lady-ish creature yanks her thumb out of your nostril and jams it in your mouth to shut you up. "Do you know how temperamental third grade wizard kids can get when their class pet is missing?? You owe me one magic glowing turtle, jackass!"
  1. You tell the skeleton-cat-person-woman that you're pretty sure you have a spare shiny turtle in your pal The Rolling Head's forehead-pocket, if she'll just let you shake him up a bit to see if it will rattle out.
  2. You discretely feel around on the floor beside you to see if you can get ahold of a piece of the C.A.T.S. employees' discarded clothing and, I dunno, jam a pair of undies in her empty eye socket?
  3. Fueled by the alcohol, you remember that you're completely naked and this is the first physical contact you've had with a "woman" since the underwater lady bit your ear off two weeks ago. Or… wait… two weeks from now, I guess? It's hard.
by Adam McIver