The Statue Got Me High
by Ryan Veeder (2012)
Genres: Surreal

Your job is to make sure John's party is successful. It won't be, though. Written for the Apollo 18+20 tribute album project.

action: %
response: John was already on his phone by the time you glanced over your shoulder. He had forgotten the whole joke; he wouldn't have noticed if you just turned around and walked back. Which you really wanted to do, for some reason.

It felt like a pretty stupid thing to be afraid of.

You got up the nerve to walk past the last few headstones, but you kept your head down. You didn't even want to look at the feet. You just kept your eyes on the pedestal, on the exact spot where you finally set down the envelope, and then you turned around.

John was still talking to his phone, oblivious. You could feel it, though, like a finger lightly scraping up the back of your neck.

And then jabbing into your spine so you had to turn back around and look up at its face. And you thought (right away you told yourself the idea was ridiculous) that it nodded.
action: About yourself
response: A disaster simulator by Ryan Veeder (with apologies to Johns L & F) 

The kitchen, with all its drawers, its cupboards, its sinks and ovens, constitutes Chucky's domain, and he guards it jealously. Usually you use it only as a conduit between the dining room (south) and the tunnel to the cellar (down the stairs).

Of course, working in here is part of your job, so you and Chucky have a deal worked out. The deal is: You do not touch anything.

Right now is an exception, apparently.

"John wants you to take care of these," he squawks, thrusting a stack of cards toward you.
action: You examine the cards
response: As you lean in for a closer look, Chucky draws back, repulsed by your intrusion of his personal space.

"Just take 'em, will ya?" he growls. He shoves the stack into your hands and then turns to his cooking.

The papers are place cards, which are to be set out at the dinner table so everyone knows where to sit. The forms of the names are inconsistent: The men are "John," "Miles," "Ivan," and "Garry," but the women are "Miss Idie" and "Miss O."

But that's not your problem. Your job is figuring out where to put these.
action: You examine chucky
response: Chucky's teeth look like a cemetery built on some old marshland, his glass eye is not the same color as his real eye, and he smells like a butchery, but he is a phenomenal cook. Supposedly he used to be a chef in the White House.

You'd like to find out more about that, but Chucky isn't the kind of guy who likes to talk. To you.
action: About yourself
response: You look extremely presentable in your "B" tuxedo: classy, but not too flashy; easy to ignore. Tuxedo B is the most appropriate for these intimate get-togethers with John's close friends. ("Intimate" is the word John uses for mixed groups; the parties to which only women are invited he calls "friendly," and they require a different tuxedo.)
action: You check your inventory
response: You are carrying:
a stack of place cards
action: You read the cards
response: The papers are place cards, which are to be set out at the dinner table so everyone knows where to sit. The forms of the names are inconsistent: The men are "John," "Miles," "Ivan," and "Garry," but the women are "Miss Idie" and "Miss O."

But that's not your problem. Your job is figuring out where to put these.
action: You eat the cards
response: That's plainly inedible.
action: You look at the drawers
response: If you just stand around looking, Chucky will start getting surly.
action: Go south
response: The sun is going down outside the western window, and the huge table, set for six, is aflame in the orange glow. An old portrait hangs on one wall, watching the proceedings with creepy indifference.

The kitchen is back north, the den is east from here, and a narrow door leads south to the foyer.

Somebody jumps as you walk in. It's John's friend Garry, apparently startled by your entrance.
action: You examine the portrait
response: The frame on the north wall is too big to ignore, and the eyes of the portrait seem to follow you around.

This is supposed to be John's ancestor, an Old World nobleman, also named John. John has offered numerous anecdotes about the subject of the painting, many of them outlandish and contradictory, and you would be inclined to believe that really has no idea who this man is, if the family resemblence weren't so unnervingly clear.
action: You ask Garry about John
response: You open your mouth to speak to Garry at just the moment that he apparently gathers the courage to talk to you.

"Do you see that painting up there?" he rasps, indicating the portrait on the north wall. "Don't you think there's something messed up with that guy? He looks really judgmental, right? Like he's judging me. Or you."

You take a moment to formulate a diplomatic answer, but other thoughts distract you. Why, Garry, are you standing in here, away from the rest of the party, if you hate that painting so much? What is going on in your life that makes you worried that a painting is judging
you?

Garry goes on without you. "I don't like him. I feel like he's looking at me. You know what? When we sit down for dinner, try and make sure I'm sitting somewhere where I don't have to look at him. One of these two seats," he says. He points with a shaking hand at the two chairs on the north side of the table.

You nod.
action: You look at the table
response: At other parties this table has comfortably seated more, but currently there are six high-backed chairs and six table settings: Two each on the north and south sides, one on the west end, and one at the east. This last one, on account of its facing the west wall, has the sunset shining straight at it.
action: You examine Garry
response: Although lacking your boss's level of animal magnetism, Garry Horrible has charm and wit enough to make up for his unfortunate name. Most of the time.

Tonight, he looks like a nervous wreck. There are dark circles under his eyes; his breathing is too loud. His is not a demeanour appropriate to a dinner party.
action: You get portrait
response: T? WHEN WE SiIt would be untoward to try rearranging the portrait while guests are over.
action: Look around
response: The sun is going down outside the western window, and the huge table, set for six, is aflame in the orange glow. An old portrait hangs on one wall, watching the proceedings with creepy indifference.

The kitchen is back north, the den is east from here, and a narrow door leads south to the foyer.

Garry leans forward with both hands on the table, staring into the grain of the wood.
action: Go east
response: This room is well-loved by many of John's friends: from those he's brought home for the first time (because it is cozy and dimly lit) to frequent visitors (because they know there's booze in the credenza). The dining room is west; the parlor is south.

Captain Miles is here, lining up a shot at the pool table.

Ivan leans on his cue and regards the table with something like suspicion.

Across the room, fidgiting on a bar stool, is Miss Idie.
action: You talk to Miles
response: THE WESTERN w"Oh, there you are," says Miles as you approach. "Listen, I don't know if you've decided who's sitting where for dinner. But I've been getting these real bad migraines lately."

Ivan looks up from the pool table. "No kidding? I can give you something for that." He pulls a pad of paper from inside his jacket.

Miles turns away from you and back toward Ivan. "Well, I don't know for sure if they're migraines. I know that I'm really sensitive to light."

Ivan is already writing. "Doesn't matter. How about codeine? You seem to me like a codeine kind of guy." He looks slantways at Miles for a moment, then goes back to scribbling. "Yeah. Here you go. You can get this filled wherever."

He rips off the sheet and pushes it into Miles's hand. "Thanks," Miles stutters, before he turns back to you.

"In the meantime I guess, I'm just saying, I'd rather not sit in that chair that's facing the window while the sun's going down."
action: You talk to Ivan
response: WESTERN W"OhWhen Ivan sees you coming, he puts down his cue and takes you aside.

"Hey. So. I figure those cards you're carrying are for deciding the seating arrangement? For dinner? Pretty fancy." It is apparent from his breath that he has figured out the secret of the credenza.

"The thing is. There's two things. First thing is, that lady friend of John's. I don't want to sit next to her. She creeps me out. Second thing is, please don't put me next to..." He's started whispering, and now he cranes his head around the room.

"You know who I'm talking about. She's a downer. I don't wanna sit next to her either. I don't know what Miles sees in her." He must mean Miss Idie.

"I mean, I know what he sees in her. Her mother has that publishing company. And both she and her mother have mitochondrial encephalomyopathy. I mean, look at her. She's like a stick. But with the publishing company, and she's gonna die young. So I can see why Miles would want to get in on that. But that's not really an option for me. So.

"Just, don't put me next to either of those women." And with that, he finally lets go of you.
action: You talk to Idie
response: DOWN OUTSIDeMiss Idie looks down at the cards in your hand. "Oh yes, there's one thing you should know. I am left-handed."

She raises her left hand, by way of evidence.

"If you lack experience with left-handed people, of whom there are relatively few, you may not know about the problems that arise when a left-handed person sits to the right of a right-handed person at a meal. Their elbows often bump against each other. It can be very uncomfortable. If two left-handed people sit next to each other, of course, there is no problem. However, I am the only left-handed person here this evening. I have made sure to check. So please make sure that you do not place me with anyone sitting to my left. I would prefer to have someone sitting immediately to my right. If I am made to sit neighborless at the end of a table, I feel like a pariah, excluded from the group because of my unique needs.

"John, your employer, claims to be ambidextrous. However, ambidexterity is a myth. I am sure he has only really managed to use his left hand for specific tasks, and only with a great deal of training."

She pauses momentarily--not to let you get a word in edgewise, but to furrow her brow. "I thought it was unusual that he would say that about himself. I find that most frivolous claims to ambidexterity are made by Orientals."

Well, that certainly took a turn.
action: You kiss idie
response: DON'T LIKeKeep your mind on the game.
action: You go south
response: This is your favorite room in the house. The dÃ©cor is classy enough for guests to understand that they should avoid making a mess out of everything.

This is due in large part to the magnificent oriental rug, covering most of the floor, and the delicate sabicu coffee table. Both are in an impossibly pristine condition, capable of inspiring respect from the most boorish of John's associates.

John is sitting in his favorite easy chair, smiling absentmindedly.

Across from him is Miss O, lounging on the couch as if it were a day bed.
action: You talk to John
response: John looks up at you and switches to a different, broader smile. "Hey, everything going smoothly? Oh, you got the place cards. You know it doesn't matter to me, but you should probably go around and see if anyone has any weird preference about how they sit down. It doesn't matter to me, though, like I said.

"But, you know, Ondine here is the guest of honor, right?" (Miss O touches her collarbone: Who, me?) "So, I suppose she would
like to be seated to the right of the host. She's a classy lady; she notices that kind of thing."

You nod dutifully.
action: You talk to Ondine
response: AND THE DELICAtMiss O raises a single finger, and shuts you up before you can start talking.

"Just a moment, John," she says. "Your associate needs for me to cut off our conversation for a moment. I assume it's something important."

She turns to you. "Is this about the seating arrangement of the meal? I hadn't bothered to give it any thought. Hmm."

She licks her lips.

"I suppose I don't have any strong preferences. I'd hate for any of my silly whims to contradict those of the other guests. But don't you think John should sit at the head of the table? I suppose that goes without saying. After all, you're our gracious host, aren't you?"

Miss O has directed this last sentence at John, apparently having decided she's wasted enough attention on you. You quietly step backward.
action: You examine john
response: ING.

TYou've worked for John for so long that you can't decide what you think of him. Is his sarcasm grating, or is it charming? Is he really charming, or just handsome? Does he treat women like bite-sized Snickers because he loves them, or because he hates them?

Then when he tilts his head, you realize: It's all confidence. He doesn't need to be handsome or charming. He's just confident.
action: You examine the cards
response: The papers are place cards, which are to be set out at the dinner table so everyone knows where to sit. The forms of the names are inconsistent: The men are "John," "Miles," "Ivan," and "Garry," but the women are "Miss Idie" and "Miss O."

But that's not your problem. Your job is figuring out where to put these.
action: Go north
response: This room is well-loved by many of John's friends: from those he's brought home for the first time (because it is cozy and dimly lit) to frequent visitors (because they know there's booze in the credenza). The dining room is west; the parlor is south.

Captain Miles is here, lining up a shot at the pool table.

Ivan leans on his cue and regards the table with something like suspicion.

Across the room, fidgiting on a bar stool, is Miss Idie.
action: You go west
response: Dining Room
The sun is going down outside the western window, and the huge table, set for six, is aflame in the orange glow. An old portrait hangs on one wall, watching the proceedings with creepy indifference.

The kitchen is back north, the den is east from here, and a narrow door leads south to the foyer.

Garry leans forward with both hands on the table, staring into the grain of the wood.

Suddenly you hear someone pounding on the front door, with the force and frequency of a lumberjack chopping at a tree trunk. Garry almost jumps out of his skin. "They're coming after me!" he squeaks.

You turn to answer the visitor, but through the narrow door you see John jumping up to beat you to it. You listen carefully for who it might be, but you can only barely hear John:

"Well, hello! Whoa, that's a cold handshake. I didn't expect you! I mean, I didn't expect you this late. Everyone else is already here. But I should have forseen you'd have trouble with transportation. Whatever. Come on in."

You hear a crunching sound.
action: Turn table
response: It walks in through the narrow door, stooping its head, sending splinters flying from the frame. It lifts its head (it looks at you) and almost touches the ceiling. It looks at Garry. Garry falls to his knees.

John grins. "Let me introduce you. Peter, this is my friend Garry. Garry, this is Peter. You remember Peter? Peter whose daughter I boned?"

Garry whimpers. John laughs.

"Anyway, he died, and this is a statue of him. He got up and walked here! Tell him why you're here, Pete."

The statue rumbles: ## Because you invited me.

"Yeah! I invited the statue to dinner! And he showed up!" John raises his hands in the air and smirks triumphantly. He is not nearly as bothered by this situation as he should be.
action: You go south
response: M John stops you. "The cellar is through here," he says, pushing you into the kitchen.

The kitchen, with all its drawers, its cupboards, its sinks and ovens, constitutes Chucky's domain, and he guards it jealously. Usually you use it only as a conduit between the dining room (south) and the tunnel to the cellar (down the stairs).

Of course, working in here is part of your job, so you and Chucky have a deal worked out. The deal is: You do not touch anything.

Chucky busies himself with some arcane cooking implements.
action: You look at the key
response: This "key" is supposed to "unlock" the wine cellar. It is useless. The fiddly piece at the end is too big to fit in any keyhole; the flat piece at the other end is engraved with three symbols: A "female" sign (a circle with a cross sticking out of it), a curvy number 4, and a little devil's trident. They are the astronomical symbols for Venus, Jupiter, and Neptune. In that order. Venus Jupiter Neptune.
action: Go downwards
response: Tunnel
Technically this is more like an antechamber for the main cellar, but the room is longer than it is wide, and the ceiling is pretty low. Besides a boarded-up rathole, there's nothing to look at in here but the stairs up and the (infuriating) door in the south.
action: You examine the rathole
response: Those pests probably could chew through these boards if they really wanted, but they seem to have gotten the message and found someone else to harass.
action: You go to the south
response: (first opening the cellar door)
The door does not budge. You must not have the right combination.
action: You examine the door
response: This thing is ridiculous.

The corny combination lock on this door is supposed to keep intruders out of the cellar, protecting the most expensive wines and liquors. It cost thousands of dollars to commission and install. It is a stupid, gaudy piece of junk.

There are three dials. You just turn a dial, and it slides over to the next setting. Each dial has three settings. There are only twenty-seven combinations. Any thief could go through all of them in just a few minutes.

The left dial is marked with the astronomical symbols for Mercury, Venus, and Earth. It is currently pointing at Mercury.

The center dial has the symbols for Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. It is pointing at Mars.

The right dial has settings for Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto. The symbol for Pluto is the stupidest; it's just a combination of the letters P and L. The dial is currently set to Uranus.

A simple padlock would be so much more effective. So much simpler.
action: You turn the left dial to the venus
response: > TUNNEL

> TECHNIcYou turn the left dial until it points at the symbol for Venus.
action: You turn the middle dial to the jupiter
response: You turn the center dial until it points at the symbol for Jupiter.
action: You turn the right dial to the Neptune
response: You turn the right dial until it points at the symbol for Neptune.

You hear a scream upstairs. Someone must have just been introduced to Peter.
action: Go south
response: (first opening the cellar door)
The door swings open.

John only buys the most expensive wines and spirits he can find. In the eyes of his friends, anyway, that makes him a conoisseur. This room isn't packed to the brim, but what it does contain is worth defending.

A sickly red and yellow bottle lying on its side in the corner would seem to be the exception.

Nearby is a crate of a particular wine which John apparently thinks is worth saving for a special occasion.

A crowbar leans against the wall.
action: You get the crowbar
response: It's a crowbar, but you take it.
action: You examine bottle
response: YOU TURN What is this swill doing here? How did it get past the security system? It probably belongs to Chucky.
action: You take bottle
response: You drop the crowbar so that you can carry the repellent bottle.
action: You take the crowbar
response: You probably shouldn't leave the bottle lying around.
You happily discard your bottle, so as to carry the crowbar with both hands.
action: You open the crate with the crowbar
response: You stick the end of the crowbar under the lip of the crate and begin redistributing some force.

You hear a crunching sound. The dining room is right above you; that must be the statue moving around. The back of your neck tingles: it
did nod at you, back in the cemetery. How long has it been
alive? Is it alive?

Your leveraging efforts are rewarded: The nail in one corner of the lid pops up. Three to go.
action: You continue
response: You reposition yourself and stick the crowbar under the lid again.

From upstairs: a shriek so shrill it could be steel rasping against glass, or a scream, or you don't know what. You should go up and make sure nobody's hurt.

But then you hear laughter. They're fine.

A little more force, and the second nail comes out.
action: You continue
response: UnYou wedge in the crowbar again to tackle the third nail.

Now you hear a low scraping, a scraping that can only be someone dragging those heavy dining room chairs over those gorgeous hardwood floors. Your lips twist in rage; you look at the nail and imagine it is Ivan's head.

It slides out of the crate with a pop. Just one more.
action: Continue
response: The last one should be easy. You slide in the crowbar...

Suddenly the party upstairs is silent. No. Suddenly? It had been silent for a few seconds before you noticed anything. Or maybe it's not silent. You can hear something rustling. Or is that just people talking?

You strain to listen, but then all you can hear is your own heartbeat.

The last nail slides out, and the whole lid slides away. You drop your crowbar and pull out a bottle.
action: You look at the bottle
response: Which do you mean, the bottle of PrÃ©venge or the bottle of Thunderbird?
action: You examine the Thunderbird
response: You regard the bottle with disgust. You couldn't possibly serve it to the guests. Maybe you could use it to kill a houseplant.
action: You examine the prevenge
response: (the bottle of PrÃ©venge)
You had the pleasure of experiencing PrÃ©venge at the same tasting where John decided he had to buy several crates. It's nothing special.
action: Drink Thunderbird
response: You don't have a corkscrew handy, which is just as well. Just the fumes off of this stuff could be hazardous to your health.
action: You check your inventory
response: You are carrying:
a bottle of PrÃ©venge
a bottle of Thunderbird
an ornate key
action: You take the prevenge
response: (the crate of PrÃ©venge)
Taking the entire crate upstairs would be too much--no matter
who is visiting.
action: You take the bottle of the prevenge
response: You'd better not leave the bottle here; John is expecting you to come back with some liquid.
You cannot gracefully carry two wine bottles at once. You drop the other bottle in favor of the PrÃ©venge.
action: Go north
response: Technically this is more like an antechamber for the main cellar, but the room is longer than it is wide, and the ceiling is pretty low. Besides a boarded-up rathole, there's nothing to look at in here but the stairs up and the (infuriating) door in the south.
action: You take the rathole
response: PLEASURE OF eYou can't save it. You have to escape.
action: You drop the prevenge
response: You'd better not leave the bottle here; John is expecting you to come back with some liquid.
action: You go south
response: John only buys the most expensive wines and spirits he can find. In the eyes of his friends, anyway, that makes him a conoisseur. This room isn't packed to the brim, but what it does contain is worth defending.

Nearby is a crate of a particular wine which John apparently thinks is worth saving for a special occasion.

You can also see a crowbar here.
action: You take the crowbar
response: You'd better not leave the bottle here; John is expecting you to come back with some liquid.
You happily discard your bottle, so as to carry the crowbar with both hands.
action: You go south
response: John only buys the most expensive wines and spirits he can find. In the eyes of his friends, anyway, that makes him a conoisseur. This room isn't packed to the brim, but what it does contain is worth defending.

Nearby is a crate of a particular wine which John apparently thinks is worth saving for a special occasion.
action: You take the bottle of the prevenge
response: You'd better not leave the bottle here; John is expecting you to come back with some liquid.
You cannot gracefully carry two wine bottles at once. You drop the other bottle in favor of the PrÃ©venge.
action: Inventory
response: You are carrying:
a bottle of PrÃ©venge
a crowbar
a bottle of Thunderbird
an ornate key
action: Up
response: Kitchen
Where's Chucky? It looks like he left in a hurry.

There seems to be something happening down in the dining room.
action: Go south
response: Everything is on fire. The floor is burning and the walls are burning and the table looks like a big bonfire; all the settings are twinkling in the light of the flames. The room is rapidly filling with smoke.

Captain Miles seems to be nursing one of his migraines.

Miss Idie is sitting on the floor, staring into the blaze of the table.

Would you stop that? There are people watching.
action: You examine the smoke
response: Smoke is rapidly filling the room, but for now you seem to be able to breathe.

Would you stop that? There are people watching.
action: You ask Idie about the fire
response: Hope looks up at you and begins pulling off one of her legs.

"I've been informed that I should feel some remorse over my opinions on the Asian race," she says. She throws her leg onto the burning table and begins removing one of her arms.

"If all I have to do is apologize, then I apologize. There." She tosses the arm into the flames and gets to work pulling off the other arm.

Her expression changes: she glares at you as if in warning. "I am being compelled to apologize against my will. None of this is sincere; I'm just acting this out to make him happy." She jerks her head backward, toward the narrow door. "I don't know how he's doing it. They're crafty that way. But why am I going on like this?"

She throws her other arm and leg onto the fire glumly. "There's not much I can do about it now."

She throws the rest of herself onto the fire, and in an instant the heat shrivels her like a plastic bag.

Have you been paying any attention? At all?
action: You talk to Miles
response: Miles looks at you through his fingers, still rubbing his head. "Oh, there you are," he says.

His fingers are skeleton bones instead of fingers. "I'm supposed to say something, so I'll say it to you. The thing I'm supposed to say is, I'm sorry."

Now the skin and muscle is gone from his face. "Not sure what I'm supposed to be sorry about. It's really hot in here, and it's hard to think. Maybe I'm supposed to be sorry about Hope, you know."

His face comes back for a second so he can squint in frustration. "That's a complicated thing to be sorry for. But the other stuff I did, I don't want to admit to doing. So I'll go with that."

He nods his skull a couple times, then his skeleton falls apart and burns up.

No. I don't care anymore. Do what you want.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: Everything is on fire. The floor is burning and the walls are burning and the table looks like a big bonfire; all the settings are twinkling in the light of the flames. The room is rapidly filling with smoke.

Do you really need me to tell you this?
action: You throw the Thunderbird on the fire
response: You can't even remember if you're still carrying it.

What are you trying to tell me? No. Forget it.
action: You throw the prevenge on the fire
response: You can't even remember if you're still carrying it.

Have you been paying any attention? At all?
action: Inventory
response: You are carrying:
a bottle of PrÃ©venge
a crowbar
a bottle of Thunderbird
an ornate key

And if it doesn't matter to you, then it doesn't matter at
all?
action: Drink Thunderbird
response: You don't have a corkscrew handy, which is just as well. Just the fumes off of this stuff could be hazardous to your health.

You do not talk to me that way.
action: Sorry
response: Oh, don't apologise.

No, you listen to me. I'm tired of this.
action: You listen
response: You hear nothing unexpected.

You wanna let me finish?
action: You wait a while
response: Time passes.

You do not talk to me that way.
action: Yes
response: That was a rhetorical question.

This is serious. Do you think I'm kidding?
action: Go south
response: T (first opening the narrow door)
The door is engulfed in flames, impossible to pass.

Do you really need me to tell you this?
action: You go west
response: The door to the foyer is blocked. The only way out is east.

I'm done with this.
action: Go east
response: The fire has already spread through here; it's climbing up the sides of the pool table and the credenza.

The elephant foot umbrella stand is here.

Across from him is Miss O, lounging on the couch as if it were a day bed.

Ivan is leaning on a bar stool, apparently standing only with great effort.

You wanna let me finish?
action: You examine the stand
response: It must have walked here by itself; it's too heavy to be carried.

I've had enough of this attitude.
action: You talk to Miss O.
response: Miss O hobbles over to you as fast as she can.

"I'm sorry," she gasps. "I'm sorry." She reaches to touch your face, but her arm suddenly swings wildly.

It is made of wood. You can see the veins of the grain working their way up to her head.

"I think this might be ironic," she rasps. But now her head is made of wood, and now she's on fire, and now she is a pile of ashes.

Do you really need me to tell you this?
action: You talk to Ivan
response: LE TO PASS.

The doctor wobbles, then topples; he manages to save himself by falling backward on the pool table.

"I am having an epiphany. Right now I am realizing that I am basically a drug dealer," he says. "Because I never stop hooking these people up with their pills. I mean addicts. They're not people, they're addicts."

His spine falls out of his back, and he flops to the floor.

His eyes widen: he has had another epiphany. "That was a terrible thing to say," he gurgles. "I'm sorry."

He tries to curl up in a fetal position against a leg of the table, but the table rears back in disgust and stomps him out like an insect.

I'm done with this.
action: You go south
response: The couch and chair are being rapidly consumed by flames; the rug is almost completely gone.

You can hear people yelling in the foyer to the west.

Garry lies on the coffee table, his eyes closed, his feet hanging off the end awkwardly.

I'm done with this.
action: You talk to Garry
response: "I did something bad," he mumurs, without opening his eyes. "I took something that didn't belong to me."

He grimaces. "I stole from my office. I stole a chair."

You roll your eyes.

"But I don't deserve a chair. Even the electric chair is too good for me. The statue has come to punish me, and I'll wait here for him to do what he will. After he gets done with John." He takes a deep breath.

"Message repeats. I did something bad. I took something that didn't belong to me." Oh, for Pete's sake.

I've had enough of this attitude.
action: You examine Garry
response: He's holding your lilies over his chest. He's sweating all over, but there's a smile on his face.

Don't think for a minute you're getting away with anything.
action: You wake up
response: The dreadful truth is, this is not a dream.

No. I don't care anymore. Do what you want.
action: Sleep
response: You aren't feeling especially drowsy.

Do you really need me to tell you this?
action: Drink crowbar
response: There's nothing suitable to drink here.

Don't think for a minute you're getting away with anything.
action: You go west
response: You've almost escaped. The front door is to the south.

John is sitting in one of the high-backed chairs. The one next to him is empty.

The statue is here.

The wall clock is on the floor, shattered.

The statue rumbles: ## Repent.

John sighs in exasperation. "I already told you, man. I'm sorry for murdering you. I mean, killing you. In self-defense. It was a wrong place, wrong time kind of thing."

Repent. roars the statue, and a wave of heat rolls out of it like a sonic boom.

"No! I said already! Already I told you this! I cannot apologize for screwing your daughter. I have to be true to myself, man."

But you must-- the statue attempts, but John is on a roll.

"And what myself is, is, a lover. Of ladies. You can't take that away from me. And I can't apologize for that. I mean, I can, but I'm not gonna."

The statue creaks. It turns toward you.
action: You hit John
response: You.

It points at the chair next to John. ## It is your turn. Sit. Join your master.

"Oh, hey!" Now John notices you. "Look, this guy wants us to apologize for all the terrible stuff we did. I don't know if it's a religious thing, or if he's just angsty about being dead, or what. Either way, we're gonna burn to death, so..."

Sit, insists the statue.

You're not listening. You're not listening.
action: You talk to John
response: "Nothing right now, thanks," John says, keeping his eyes on Miss O. "Remember, though, about the guest of honor, on the host's right."

Sit, and repent. The statue seems to want to throw you bodily into
the chair.

"Come on!" cries John. "Let's get this over with!"

Have you been paying any attention? At all?
action: You sit
response: What do you want to sit on?
action: You sit on the chair
response: You sit down next to John. The statue looks at you. The flames rise.

John leans back and smiles: his body turns into a pile of ashes. Then yours does too; then the chairs, and then the rest of the house. Everything is gone, except the statue.
action: You go south
response: You must name something more substantial.

The statue and John both regard you expectantly. The fire is spreading.

No. We're not finished.
action: Exit
response: But you aren't in anything at the moment.

The statue and John both regard you expectantly. The fire is spreading.

This is serious. Do you think I'm kidding?
action: You look at the front door
response: The statue and John both regard you expectantly. The fire is spreading.

I'm done with this.

The door isn't on fire, yet; outside is the lawn, and safety.

The statue and John both regard you expectantly. The fire is spreading.

This is serious. Do you think I'm kidding?
action: You open front door
response: As you open the door, cool night air rushes in from outside. If John or the statue reacts, you don't know; they are behind you.

The statue and John both regard you expectantly. The fire is spreading.

You're not listening. You're not listening.
action: Go south
response: Lawn
You run out across the lawn: you fall on your face in the grass before you reach the street.

But you're safe. It's dark out here, and cold, and the guests and John and the statue are all behind you. You lie in the grass and breathe in huge gulps as the screaming fire engine sirens fill the air.