You shamble down the stairs to inspect the kitchen. The dishes have not been washed and there is a suspicious stain on the floor; but you knew that already. Your chocolate cake is waiting on the table. One slice has been eaten. There is a magickal elf sitting on top of the refrigerator.
To eat some cake, go to >>4
To inspect the magickal elf, go to >>5
The magickal elf has a strange quality to his person. Your eyes wander as he flickers and morphs nonchalantly, seemingly at odds with the question of just what dimension he wants to stay in, anyway. "Are you done yet, you grotesque being?" he asks with even more disgust. But the cake is delicious and you are far from done. He twiddles his fingers a bit to manifest a beautiful, complex toy - the likes of which you've never seen.
To finish the latter dosage of those hallucinogens you consumed earlier, go to >>6.
To ask dumb questions about the object while shoveling cake into your gullet, go to >>8.
*To finish the latter dosage of those hallucinogens you consumed earlier, go to >>9.
You continue stuffing your face and something snaps inside you. The need to consume consumes you and you don't stop at the cake. You methodically begin to chew away at the table it's on, the surrounding chairs, the elf, the refrigerator. You eat the living room, the dining room, the basement. You eat the house, the neighborhood, the city. You eat the world, the solar system, the galaxy, the universe. You are the universe, the universe is you. You have consumed all.
THE END
"Hey, whusshat?" you say, pieces of cake tumbling out of your mouth as you speak. The elf looks at you as one would an animal rolling in its own filth, then puts his whatchamahoozit away and, with a click of his tiny fingers and a puff of smoke, vanishes. Just then, your little sister walks in.
To offer your little sister some cake, go to >>10.
To do something silly with/to your little sister, go to >>11.
Yes, instead of playing video games as you'd planned, you decide to finish the latter dosage of those hallucinogens you consumed earlier. You never really had a choice, actually. "Video games" is just your cute little euphemism for your chemical addiction.
You overdose on "video games" and begin to hallucinate that you are visiting a strange land called DQN.
Go to >>3.
The bear you thought was your little sister rejects the cake and throws a shark at you. Now you have ruined a perfectly good afternoon by being dead.
Go to the land of the dead >>37
You are just about to give your little sister a tummy rub, when you notice that she's looking a little hairier than normal, and also happens to be wielding a shark. Then it dawns on you: she's actually a bear! Simultaneously, you do not become aware of the fact that this is the only continuing narrative thread for now, because that would involve breaking the fourth wall. And we wouldn't want that, would we?
To run away from your little sister/bear, go to >>12
To have an existential crisis, go to >>13
To offer your little sister/bear a tummy rub, go to >>15
You dash out the kitchen, run down the hallway, shuffle through the parlor, skip across the boudoir, limp into the solarium, stumble out of the scullery, sneak past the dungeon, flip through the foyer and out into the backyard where your run and run like you've never run before, right arm slung horizontally across your eyes to hide the tears. All you wanted was to be loved.
When you come to your senses, you realize you have run deep into the forest, and you seem to be lost. The only clue to your exit is a dim light in the distance, but it seems foreboding.
To walk toward the suspicious light, go to >>14
To fashion a shovel out of nearby tree and start digging, go to >>16
To wander randomly in hopes of finding an exit, go to >>17
Who are you? Where are you going? Who are we really and what's keeping us from just giving up altogether as a species? Everything is nothing. You're just a dot on the canvas, an electron in the lattice, a fish in the great cosmic sea. What does it mean to be human? What does it mean to mean anything? Understanding of your affliction, the bear takes a seat next to you and gently places its paw on your arm. "You'll be alright," it seems to say.
To talk it through with the bear, go to >>18.
To proposition the bear for a piggy-back ride, go to >>19.
As you approach it, the light reaches out a single friendly tentacle in your direction. The tentacle wavers from side to side in front of you, strokes you on the cheek, then retracts back where it came from. Suddenly, a number of considerably larger and less friendly tentacles swarm towards you from all sides, and the scene ends much as it would if this were some form of infamous Japanese erotica.
THE END
You carefully approach and hold out your hand in a peaceful gesture. The bear cocks its head and slowly lowers the shark, so you move in and begin caressing the soft fur of its belly. The fur feels just like a stuffed animal as you rub on it, a big, soft, cuddly teddy. You give it a hug and look at its face, which is when you realize that it's actually a man in a bear suit. He suggests that if this is how you feel, maybe the two of you should go somewhere more cozy.
To go somewhere cozy with the fursuiter, go to >>20.
To suggest going to the video arcade instead, go to >>21.
To run away from the fursuiter, go to >>12.
Somehow you got to an exit, as you leave your bear/sister shark gets you and you and offers you to play videogames with you.
Go to >>9
"Bear bear bear," you begin tirelessly, "Who is life? What do I scrape off of the sun? When is God? Where is the ketchup? Why are the answers?"
The bear's capacity for sympathy seems to be slowly fading as your ridiculous rant continues, but you pay no attention.
"I mean really, bear, I'm just an insignificant spot - no, speck - no, spigot in this horrendous vortex, signifying nothing. Oh, but with what ugly gall does this meaningless affliction of life continue to prance, with such self-deluded importance. Anything we do is but a mere distraction, a vacant buttery sideshow in an empty theater. We are our only audience."
The bear takes his paw off your arm, now looking bored and a little hungry.
To continue your existential rant, go to >>22.
To proposition the bear for a piggy-back ride, go to >>19.
You invite the fursuiter into the den, where you start a fire and pour yourselves two glasses of bourbon, but the two of you barely take a sip before breaking out into disgustingly passionate love making. The furry claws run themselves all over your meek, desperate body. You pulse with desire. The man's clammy unbrushed tongue forces its way into your moist, longing mouth. Your pairs of gums and teeth play a quartet in perfect sexy counterpoint. Upon conclusion of this torrid movement, the bear man lustfully unzips his pants and pulls out a hot, throbbing cucumber. Literally.
To fellate the cucumber, go to >>27.
To make salad, go to >>28.
"And furthermore, consider the death of choice. We delude ourselves with the idea that there are infinite possibilities, that every choice branches exponentially. But it's a lie. There's no defeating time's arrow in life, no save states, no back button. And thus choice is an illusion. We have but one fate, one sad and narrow path, dark, unwinding, ending in pointless darkness. The smack of her lips, the cracks in the sidewalk, the giggles of children on old steam trains are all preludes to that laughable end, that str-URGH!"
Your amateur philisophizing has been cut short by the bear, who ordered the shark to bite off your arm. You scream in pain and look down in horror at your arm - or lack thereof - but the bear shows mercy and whacks you in the head with the shark like a pinata. Instead of candy there is blood and guts. You never wake up to share the prize.
YOU HAVE DIED
THE END
The elf shows you how to properly feel the grain of the bone whilst pushing the knife down slowly through the coarse material that bone is to create perfect shapes. You soon are very good at this and able to make skillful bone objects with relative ease.
To make bone masks go to >>43
To make bone Knives go to >>31
To try to find excellent shark and bear bones that are the best for making superb bone weapons go to >>33
As unlikely as it may seem, you've spent your life outside of the internet in hard, dedicated training to the martial arts. Remembering now the wise and careful tutelage of your Master, Pu-pi Wang, you brace your back to receive the bear and now, exerting your hardened leg muscles in the way you were taught so that you don't throw your back out, you lift up the great weight of the bear on your shoulders and begin to move.
To move at a cautious pace, go to >>32
To throw caution to the wind and gallop about like a mighty steed, go to >>34
Congratulations, you are now in the living hell of New Jersy! It's like New Jersey but worse.
"Welcome to Marlbahro, New Joisey," says a cheerful woman with frilly hair and a big nose. "Would you like some cawfee?"
You simply stare in shock and confusion, so she goes on. "Hey, I'm tawkin t' you! Where y' frum?"
To graciously accept the cawfee and chat with the woman, go to >>36
To punch the woman in the face while shouting antisemitic slurs, go to >>48