When the universe asks you "More cheese?", it isn't a yes or no question. It is merely asking you for a quantity.
So yes, more cheese!
Greater and greater quantities of cheese are placed in your throat, and vibro-motors on the chair even help you chew and swallow. Ahh, this is luxury. True oneness with cheese, devoid of any distraction.
Actually, it's starting to get a little bit uncomfortable. Not the restraints or the swallowing, but the...
amount of cheese. The creamy textures and unique, arresting tastes, the feeling of sinking into a deep, viscous pool mouth-first... there's rather a lot of cheese left. A cracker or two might relieve the... not monotony, exactly, but the sort of sleepy, drunken, overloaded senastion... yes, you could
really do with a cracker right now. Definitely. More and more cheese slithers and worms its way into your mouth, each one launching a different and somewhat defeaning attack on your tastebuds...
3 X X 2 X X X 3 X X X 2 X X 3
X 2 X X X 3 X X X 3 X X X 2 X
X X 2 X X X 2 X 2 S L O G S X
2 X X 2 X X X 2 X P X G X T 2
X X X X 2 X X X X A 2 L X A X
X 3 X X X 3 X X T W E E D Y X
X X 2 X X X 2 X O N X X 2 X X
3 X X 2 X X X C O S I E S X 3
X X 2 X X X 2 X T X X Q 2 X X
X 3 X X X 3 X X X 3 X U X 3 X
X X X X 2 X X X X X A I X X X
2 X X 2 X X X 2 X X I N X X 2
X X 2 X X X 2 X W A V E D X X
X 2 X X X 3 X X X 3 E X X 2 X
3 X X 2 X X X 3 X X R 2 X X 3
22 points. The blade remains absolutely still for several seconds.
In a blur of viscious rending metal, the massive razor suspended above the top part of Desmond's thighs flies vertically from the top into the bottom metal box, disappearing entirely in less than a second. Blood mists the air, as his legs are thrown inches away from the bloodied stumps by the force of the blow, thick red liquid spurting from mangled arteries and veins as Desmond howls in pain and anguish. The audience is given several moments to enjoy and jeer at the pitiful spectacle, then he is rushed offstage by medics, his trailing stumps leaving two long, thick smears of crimson on the polished arena floor.
"Now wasn't that exciting, ladies and gentlemen? Real excitement, real sportsmanship, real gore! Doesn't that just make you feel alive? Well, don't feel too sorry for Desmond, he'll live... as a cripple. Anyway, it should've been pretty obvious that if he hadn't cheated and blocked your simply brilliant sixty-four point word, the real gem of the game, the blade would have passed right over his head! That's right, ladies and gentlemen, he lost out of spite! Now does a man like that really deserve legs? Does he, ladies and gentlemen... does he?
"Well, as you ponder that one, don't forget to place some bets on which side will win the head to head challenge! Oh, and contestants? You'd better decide who's doing the head-to-head for your team... remember, whoever has the least points in the round after this... is eliminated! Choose quickly now... or we'll choose for you!"The contestants (
sans Desmond, though mild screaming can still be heard offstage) are marched out into the centre of the arena as the blood-spattered cutting device is wheeled off, amputated legs still on it, by scantily clad young men and women. Several minutes later, a heavily bandaged and semi-conscious Desmond is dragged on.
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Topic: Dead Man Running Season II - Five Card Drawn and Quartered (Read 64978 times)