http://www.votemayor.com/?p=249Elected Command: Fling the jelly into Gonzo’s mouth, still agape.“Assuredly, its tenaciously fearsome will has undoubtedly proven its nutritional value.” assures The Mayor, pushing the spoon further forward.
Sammy reluctantly commandeers the cooking spoon; pale face reflected off its gelatin contents.
“Ummm…” quivers Sammy, observant eyes darting between the wobbly jelly, and the remarkably unreadable Mayor. “To the fallen, go the spoils of war ‘n stuff.”
With that, Sammy catapults the spoon’s shapeless mass into Uncle Gonzo’s gaping mouth. Direct hit. The Jelly slaps down onto Gonzo’s swollen tongue, lightly bounces, and wistfully slides into his awaiting throat.
The Mayor dully joggles the hot frying pan, nonplussed. Sammy unsteadily kneels down, intently inspecting Uncle Gonzo’s rigid face for gestures of disgust, fondness, or any expression at all.
The cool night air carries in from the alleyway.
“cccrrRRaaa!” alarmingly utters Gonzo, tongue flicking outward, bloodshot eyes bulging. Sammy flies back onto his rear in absolute shock, while The Mayor offers no visible reaction, simply continuing to dispiritedly shake the kitchen skillet.
“He’s alive! Uncle Gonzo's alive!” cheerfully exclaims Sammy, unsuccessfully attempting to wedge himself underneath one of Gonzo’s flabby arms. “Can’t move’em worth a spit, but the old boss is a breathin’! I’m saved!”
“C-c-crraavens!” exasperates Uncle Gonzo, limply pointing toward the ratty kitchen doors.
“Looks like we’re not the only one’s cooking up a meal.” says The Mayor, staring in the direction of Gonzo’s chubby pointed finger. Sammy whips around. His cheerful smile fades.
Dashing from out of the ratty kitchen, Sammy stops dead in his tracks, purposely reminding himself to take great care in examining exactly what he see’s before himself at this very moment.
Bar Nun is lit ablaze.
The inferno spreads with every passing moment, consuming the establishment, alcohol soaked and dry wooden. Passed out near the bar stools lay Sammy’s fellow commie soldier, who had earlier been trapped within Sister Mister’s effortless chokehold. He appears to be too heavy for the rail thin Sammy to move. Atop the bar’s counter, a trail of flame inches toward a parchment, pinned down by a blood stained whiskey bottle. The rafters toward the ratty kitchen doors creak and moan under stress, while the bar’s entrance looks to be perfectly clear.
Sister Mister is nowhere to be found.
Commands: 1. Attempt to awake the fellow soldier.
2. Attempt to examine the parchment.
3. Attempt escape through Bar Nun’s entrance.
4. Attempt escape through Bar Nun’s kitchen.
Voting ends in 45 hours.