Game 2Game 2 Outline| Game 2 |
Game 2 Outline |
You look over your surroundings and think a minute. On a table to your left are an alarm clock and a rubber bone. Beside them are a leash, a muzzle, and a guitar. You assume that the leash and muzzle are just for show, but the guitar gives you an idea.
"Fred, how old are you?" you ask.
"Thirty-two," he replies. "What difference does that make?"
"I'm just in my twenties," you begin, "but my room seems better suited to a teenager, and yours does, too."
Fred looks at you for a moment, obviously not having understood your words. Then his eyes widen, and he begins to laugh. "Not only are we cartoon werewolves, then," he shouts; "we're teenage cartoon werewolves! Why not be from outer space, too, as long as we're at it?" He seems almost hysterical.
"Calm down, Fred," you instruct him. "Let's just roll with the punches until we can figure out a way out of here. Our lives may depend on the success of a TV program. As long as we're both young again, why don't we take this guitar and some drums downtown and give a rock show for all the local kids?"
Fred shoots you a dirty look. "One, I don't see any drums lying around. Two, I have no musical talent, and you don't look like Jimi Hendrix, yourself. Three, we don't know anything about this town. And four, we don't know any local kids. If we're not careful, we could be shot for dinner by some country bumpkin."
You smile at Fred and very slowly repeat: "We're in a cartoon."
Quietly, Fred opens his closet to reveal a $5,000 set of drums. He gulps in a way most befitting a badly drawn teenage cartoon werewolf. "You lead the way," he says, donning a pair of sunglasses before exiting the room. You pick up your guitar and instinctively begin to play tame versions of beloved rock songs.
Written by Joey Liverwurst (edited by phaedrus)