the continuing saga of …
THE BEAST OF BERWYN
You quickly save the draft of your squirrel saliva diatribe, and slide out of your den and into your fuzzy bunny slippers, muscles tensed like an industrial-grade spring.
You cautiously open your front door and slip into the dark night.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Muzzle flashes briefly illuminate the surroundings. A ravishing woman stands less than twenty feet from you, mouth agape. After the last muzzle flash, everything goes dark.
“Are you alright?” Another voice, closer to you! You can dimly make out a figure. It is your neighbor, Bill Sherwin, in a loosely-fitting bathrobe that leaves nothing to the imagination.
The woman screams, “NOOOOOOOOOO!”
You gasp. You feel your shirt wetten and look down. A gunshot wound pumps out blood onto your lawn. You drop to the ground.
As what consciousness you have left sputters into nothingness, a police car pulls up, and a sinister-looking clown gets out.
There are many paths to adventure in this story. Try again and you may have more luck next time!