Nord and Bert Couldn't Make Head or Tail of It
by Jeff O'Neill (1987)
Genres: Wordplay

You are standing at the edge of a barren field. A steady wind, having secreted away the topsoil, is now drifting sandy dirt across the plain. A scant sign of life here is a freshly-burrowed molehill on the ground. > MAKE A MOUNTAIN OUT OF THE MOLEHILL There is a tremendous rumbling in the distance, getting louder and louder, until it is deafening. The dirt around the molehill crumbles away as mighty, jagged granite peaks emerge from deep underground. The surrounding landscape transforms into a fertile valley before your very eyes. Infocom's first collection of short stories takes you to a place where nothing is quite as it seems. It's a place where you really can make a mountain out of a molehill, where "the fur is flying" is taken literally, and where a bow can be turned into a beau. Each of the eight stories in Nord and Bert Couldn't Make Head or Tail of It involves a different type of wordplay. You'll find yourself challenging your wits and your memory to come up with the clichés, spoonerisms, and other verbal trickeries needed to complete the puzzles. But don't view this as a hard row to hoe. Nord and Bert contains built-in hints, which you can call upon when the going gets rough. All eight stories take place in the mixed-up town of Punster. However, no two contain the same people, locations, or objects. Each is played independently of the others, although you'll use passwords obtained in seven of the stories to get into the eighth. As for mapping, it's out of the window. You simply type where you want to go. The tall tales in Nord and Bert are every bit as fun and clever as Infocom's other interactive fiction stories. They can each be completed in one sitting, making them a highly entertaining way to spend an evening, alone or with friends. Nord and Bert was authored by Jeff O'Neill, whose mind is constantly working on artful new turns of phrase.

action: About yourself
response: There's no time to dawdle. You must do one of the following:

>Go to the Shopping Bizarre
>Play Jacks
>Buy the Farm
>Eat your Words
>Act the Part
>Visit the Manor of Speaking
>Shake a Tower
>Meet the Mayor
action: Shake tower
response: In the dark forest outside the town boundries of Punster, chaos has been the order of the day. On a recent afternoon the daughter of a leading citizen of our town, out for a stroll among the tall pines, disappeared without apparent trace. Rumor has it that one strange, stand-alone door is the only means of escape from the forest. But no volunteer has yet been found to face the oddball nature of the place. That is, until now.

You're in a clearing of a deep, dark forest.

The odd sight of a lead house stands here under the trees.

There is one door here that is not connected to any building and which is closed. Yet there is something radiant imbedded in it: A gritty pearl appears to shine on the door.
action: Pretty girl
response: Tiny grains of sand fall from the pearl as it begins to pulse slowly with radiant red light, whose brightness soon becomes blinding. When you're finally able to move your arms away from your face, you can see a beautiful girl before you.

The girl is radiantly pretty, but as she continues to "shine on the door," she kicks her feet angrily in the air.
action: You dine on the shore
response: This is the shore of a river, between two tributaries of the Rhine. A pile of rocks jutting from the beach into the river blocks your path along the shore.

A pretty girl is sitting on the beach, holding what appears to be a pan of keys.
action: Can of peas
response: The keys jingle together in the pan, as if simmering, and one key pops out of the pan onto the ground. Then in a sudden "poof" the pan is transformed into a can.
The girl takes a whiff of the can of peas and scowls at it. "Yukko. Gag me with a spoonerism."

From the looks of her very trim figure, the pretty girl is certainly in need of a square meal. But, being deprived of any kind of dining experience on the shore, she instead, by leaps and bounds, sprints toward the Rhine and dives headlong into the river.
action: You get the key
response: Taken.
action: You look
response: This is the shore of a river, between two tributaries of the Rhine. A pile of rocks jutting from the beach into the river blocks your path along the shore.

You can see a can of peas here.
action: You examine the pile
response: Each face of the rocks has the same hungry, crazed expression that says "Feed me!"
action: You give the peas to the rocks
response: You scatter the green peas among the hungry rocks, who crack heads with each other in their eagerness to gobble them up. When the peas are gone, they devour even the tin can, which is loudly crushed as it disappears between several of the fed rocks.
action: Red fox
response: With frightful expressions on the faces of the rocks, a loud rumbling avalanche sends them tumbling and splashing into the Rhine. Through the thick rock dust, you can make out a red fox trotting out of sight.

With a new section of the shore open to view, you now observe the following sight:

A queer old dean here seems to be the subject of a rare hazing experience. A tall leopard, standing up on its hind legs, is shoving him up and down the shoreline, creating quite a scene and kicking up sand all along the way. The dean, with his long grey locks flaming out like Einstein's, is hopelessly mismatched by the leopard and continuously gives up sandy ground to him.
action: Dear old queen
response: In the distance you hear the first few bars of the British National Anthem as, before your very eyes, the dean is transformed into a reigning monarch in full regalia.
Our shoving leopard stops to make a brief curtsy before the queen, then continues pushing her up and down the shoreline.
action: Loving shepherd
response: The leopard changes its appearance from beast into man and changes its spots into a black suit with a white, wraparound collar. He takes out a black book and intones solemnly in a guttural Germanic language for a few moments.
Closing his book with a hollow thud, the shepherd uses a stick to scrawl a two-line message on the shore. And then, looking with grand vision toward the tributaries of the Rhine River, our loving shepherd turns tail, walks away from the shore, and disappears in the distance as he leads between the Rhines.
action: You read the message
response: Since the two lines scrawled on the shore are written in the obscure language of sand-script, you're not able to comprehend their meaning.

The queen marches away down the beach.
action: You read between the the lines
response: You gather the gist of the sand-script message to be: Follow your Shepherd.
action: You follow the shepherd
response: You follow in the precise direction of the shepherd. It's trecherous going, since you're travelling over dill and hail -- that is, pickles strewn along the paths, and ice chunks hurling from the sky. You eventually come upon an out-of-the-way spot along the now quite polluted river. It's a prime location for such a flagrant violator of anti-pollution laws as the old factory, between whose grimy gates you suspiciously enter.

This is an old factory. A passage leads into a back room.

The shepherd has placed his black book on the floor of the factory.

In a seedy corner of the factory, you can observe a scuffle going on. As far as you can see, our loving shepherd is engaged in a tug-of-war with a large, man-sized rodent which appears to be a rat. The shepherd is struggling, with religious zeal, to pull some black-and-white cloth from the huge over-grown rat.

Someone has left a bonfire going, as a large pile of foam is burning in the middle of the factory floor. Above the foam burning, an icicle is hanging down from the ceiling.

The shepherd keeps struggling against all odds, with religious zeal, attempting to extract the habit from the large rat, which is fiercely clenching it in his snout.
action: You examine the rat
response: At the thick-haired shoulder, the rat stands tall as you. In it's buck teeth, which are the size of cheese wedges, hangs a habit.

The shepherd keeps struggling against all odds, with religious zeal, attempting to extract the habit from the large rat, which is fiercely clenching it in his snout.
action: You pull the rabbit out of the hat
response: The big rat twitches its bewhiskered snout, and yawns a gap-toothed yawn, then incredibly shrinks down to the size, and now the shape, of a hat.

You can see the black-and-white cloth folding in upon itself and twisting and wringing itself in a laundry-like fashion. With a final turning inside-out and the emergence of floppy ears from the cloth, it blooms gradually into the fluffy body of a rabbit.

Abracadabra, Alacazam! With nothing up your sleeve (with the exception of your knobby elbow) you yank the scruffy rabbit, which is pedaling its lucky feet in the air, out of the hat.

The shepherd turns into a leopard and, licking his chops, scampers away with the rabbit tucked under one claw.
action: Look around
response: This is an old factory. A passage leads into a back room.

The shepherd has placed his black book on the floor of the factory.

Someone has left a bonfire going, as a large pile of foam is burning in the middle of the factory floor. Above the foam burning, an icicle is hanging down from the ceiling.

You can see a hat here.
action: You get the hat
response: Taken.
action: You look at the book
response: It looks like every other book of riddles you've ever seen.
action: You read the book
response: You riddle for a while and eventually grow tired of it.
action: You look at the hat
response: The hat seems to be crafted out of fine mohair.
action: You look at foam
response: It looks like every other foam burning you've ever seen.
action: You look at the icicle
response: Suspended from the ceiling, the icicle makes a steady drip-dripping onto the fire. But, strangely, it seems not to be shrinking.
action: You go to the back room
response: [Refer to the top of the screen to find out where you can go.]
action: Inventory
response: You have a book of riddles, a hat and a shiny key.
action: You look around
response: This is an old factory. A passage leads into a back room.

Someone has left a bonfire going, as a large pile of foam is burning in the middle of the factory floor. Above the foam burning, an icicle is hanging down from the ceiling.
action: Oops bicycle
response: [OOPS is useful only after the "I don't know the word..." response.]
action: Stock room
response: You're standing toward the rear of the factory, back in the jean stock. Jeans of every conceivable size, color, shape, and texture are stacked up along the walls, arranged into dozens of rows, piled high onto heaps. There is a dizzying effect, as if your point of view were from inside a large-capacity clothes dryer.

A jean client, an intense-looking man wearing thick glasses, is impatiently rummaging through the haberdashery.

You can see, looming in the distance, the dwarfish figure of a man who appears to have been sold into slavery to weave fabric at this factory, even in its dilapidated condition.

As you approach, the sold elf awkwardly attempts to make a tall smock.
action: You go to the stock room
response: You've already arrived.
action: Clean giant
response: Much to his horror, the jean client begins to undergo a Hulkian transformation -- with popping buttons, ripping seams, and bug-eyed self-examination.

Seemingly shamed by the revealing ordeal, the client, while he's still of a human size, demonstrates his dexterity and strength by clambering up the towering pile of jeans until he can no longer be seen.
action: Old self
response: The elf sprouts up and goes through the whole Dorian Grey thing, looking gradually more and more like you but a lot grayer.
action: Jack and the bean stalk
response: The mile-high stack of jeans slowly leans heavily into your direction and as it passes the point of no return in a chaos of color, fabric and rivets, all the jeans come tumbling down upon your head, burying you completely in blackness.

When you come to, it's in a new environment...

A page from the imagination of your childhood, an illustration of a country scene, an open field amid rolling hills under blue sky punctuated by cottony soft clouds, next to a simple story punctuated by exclamation points.

An overgrown bean stalk grows thick and tall up into the clouds. Nowadays, sadly, it seems the stalk would have to be rationalized, explained away somehow by experts, as an ominous instance of radioactive mutation, or as a patented, genetically manufactured hybrid -- rather than attributed to, as in the old days, simply, magic. Such a realization stirs a nostalgic longing for the days of yore when imagination reigned in all its grandeur and innocence.

In the distance you can hear the strange and unmistakable sound of a female horse attempting to imitate the sound of a pig.

Walking around in circles here with its feathers ruffled is a crow, which is typically black except for its blushing red face. The crow seems embarrassed by the kind of strange behavior animals are capable of exhibiting in the vicinity.
action: Crushing blow
response: The crow squawks loudly, scratches at the dirt, and bounds into flight, soaring higher and higher into the sky. Then, tucking in its wings, the weird bird takes a sudden nose dive that ends smashingly in a cloud of dirt on the field. Dust settles around the crushing blow.
action: Square meal
response: The squealing of the mare becomes so increasingly strained and high-pitched that you are forced to cover your ears, lowering your head in squint-eyed pain. The instant the terrible noise shuts off, your eyes pop open and notice a rather angular meal at your feet.
action: Look around
response: A page from the imagination of your childhood, an illustration of a country scene, an open field amid rolling hills under blue sky punctuated by cottony soft clouds, next to a simple story punctuated by exclamation points.

An overgrown bean stalk grows thick and tall up into the clouds. Nowadays, sadly, it seems the stalk would have to be rationalized, explained away somehow by experts, as an ominous instance of radioactive mutation, or as a patented, genetically manufactured hybrid -- rather than attributed to, as in the old days, simply, magic. Such a realization stirs a nostalgic longing for the days of yore when imagination reigned in all its grandeur and innocence.

You can see a crushing blow here.
action: Blushing crow
response: A crack appears upon the surface of the blow, and extends jaggedly down with a loud cracking noise. Out hops the crow, shedding its membrane with bristling feathers.
action: You get the blow
response: The crow squawks loudly, scratches at the dirt, and bounds into flight, soaring higher and higher into the sky. Then, tucking in its wings, the weird bird takes a sudden nose dive that ends smashingly in a cloud of dirt on the field. Dust settles around the crushing blow.

Taken.
action: You check your inventory
response: You have a crushing blow, a square meal, a book of riddles, a hat and a shiny key.
action: Look around
response: A page from the imagination of your childhood, an illustration of a country scene, an open field amid rolling hills under blue sky punctuated by cottony soft clouds, next to a simple story punctuated by exclamation points.

An overgrown bean stalk grows thick and tall up into the clouds. Nowadays, sadly, it seems the stalk would have to be rationalized, explained away somehow by experts, as an ominous instance of radioactive mutation, or as a patented, genetically manufactured hybrid -- rather than attributed to, as in the old days, simply, magic. Such a realization stirs a nostalgic longing for the days of yore when imagination reigned in all its grandeur and innocence.
action: Shore
response: It's on a different plane of existence.
action: Stock room
response: A swift cloud of dust blows up from the trackless wastes into your face, causing you to bring your fists to your eyes like binoculars. After much rubbing, your vision, though blurry at first, returns to reveal familiar surroundings...

Your old self stands here.
action: You examine the self
response: It's you.
action: You talk to the self
response: He speaks slowly and deliberately, "All I have to say: Don't end up like this. You still have time to avoid such a fate. Listen: mutual funds and long-term bonds."
action: Sold elf
response: Self to elf.
action: You look around
response: You're standing toward the rear of the factory, back in the jean stock. Jeans of every conceivable size, color, shape, and texture are stacked up along the walls, arranged into dozens of rows, piled high onto heaps. There is a dizzying effect, as if your point of view were from inside a large-capacity clothes dryer.

A sold elf stands here.
action: Small talk
response: Whom do you want to make small talk with?
action: You make the small talk with the elf
response: You lean over and onto whole cloth he stitches out precise directions for getting back to the clearing, which you commit to memory.

"But you'll never make it on foot. You need some transportation."
action: Old self
response: The elf sprouts up and goes through the whole Dorian Grey thing, looking gradually more and more like you but a lot grayer.
action: Bean stalk
response: The mile-high stack of jeans slowly leans heavily into your direction and as it passes the point of no return in a chaos of color, fabric and rivets, all the jeans come tumbling down upon your head, burying you completely in blackness.

When you come to, it's in a new environment...
action: You look
response: A page from the imagination of your childhood, an illustration of a country scene, an open field amid rolling hills under blue sky punctuated by cottony soft clouds, next to a simple story punctuated by exclamation points.

An overgrown bean stalk grows thick and tall up into the clouds. Nowadays, sadly, it seems the stalk would have to be rationalized, explained away somehow by experts, as an ominous instance of radioactive mutation, or as a patented, genetically manufactured hybrid -- rather than attributed to, as in the old days, simply, magic. Such a realization stirs a nostalgic longing for the days of yore when imagination reigned in all its grandeur and innocence.
action: You check your inventory
response: You have a crushing blow, a square meal, a book of riddles, a hat and a shiny key.
action: Up
response: You'd never make it up the stalk while holding anything in your hands.
action: Inventory
response: You have a hat (being worn), a crushing blow, a square meal, a book of riddles and a shiny key.
action: You look at the hat
response: The hat seems to be crafted out of fine mohair.
action: Factory
response: You walk into the factory.

Someone has left a bonfire going, as a large pile of foam is burning in the middle of the factory floor. Above the foam burning, an icicle is hanging down from the ceiling.
action: Shore
response: You go there.

Lines of sand-script are scrawled on the shore.
action: Factory
response: You travel over hill and dale...

Someone has left a bonfire going, as a large pile of foam is burning in the middle of the factory floor. Above the foam burning, an icicle is hanging down from the ceiling.
action: You riddle while the foam burns
response: As you while away the time in the grand manner of great decadent epochs of the historical past, the icicle overhead suddenly takes as much heat as it can stand, letting loose from the ceiling and dropping to the factory floor with a surprising "Thud."
action: Look around
response: This is an old factory. A passage leads into a back room.

Someone has left a bonfire going, as a large pile of foam is burning in the middle of the factory floor.

You can see a well-boiled icicle here.
action: Oiled bicycle
response: The icicle, though thoroughly boiled already, lets off a searing vertical wall of steam. As the white vapor clears, a shiny, brand new bicycle is revealed.
action: You get the bicycle
response: Taken.
action: You drop the bike
response: Dropped.
action: Ride bike
response: Decisively, you take the bike by the handlebars and swing the seat under you.
action: Clearing
response: With all the enthusiasm of a child actor in a Steven Spielberg movie with a percentage, you pedal away...

Clearing, on the bike

The odd sight of a lead house stands here under the trees.

There is one door here that is not connected to any building and which is closed.
action: Head louse
response: The house disappears before your very eyes, a situation that leaves you scratching your head in perplexity.
Moments later, you feel the curious little head louse migrate from your skull into the mohair fabric of the hat.
action: You remove the hat
response: You remove the hat.
action: You look at the hat
response: The hat seems to be crafted out of fine mohair.
action: You examine the door
response: The door, is closed.
action: You stand
response: You get off the well-oiled bicycle.
action: You stand
response: You're already standing.
action: You open the door
response: The door is locked.
action: Look around
response: You're in a clearing of a deep, dark forest.

There is one door here that is not connected to any building and which is closed.

You can see a well-oiled bicycle here.
action: You unlock door
response: You must indicate what to unlock the door with.
action: You unlock the door with the key
response: "Click." As you unlock the door it creaks open. A tunnel of darkness opens up to you, and you cautiously walk inside. You almost vanish into the darkness, it is so black.

So bone-chillingly penetrating is the vacancy of the tunnel, that you retreat out through the door, and lock it behind you.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: You have a hat, a crushing blow, a square meal, a book of riddles and a shiny key.
It seems that the hat contains a head louse.
action: Factory
response: You travel over hill and dale...

Someone has left a bonfire going, as a large pile of foam is burning in the middle of the factory floor.
action: You check your inventory
response: You have a well-oiled bicycle, a hat, a crushing blow, a square meal, a book of riddles and a shiny key.
It seems that the hat contains a head louse.
action: Look around
response: You're in a clearing of a deep, dark forest.

There is one door here that is not connected to any building and which is closed.
action: Ride bike
response: Decisively, you take the bike by the handlebars and swing the seat under you.
action: Factory
response: Pedaling madly away, you ride like the wind...

Old Factory, on the bike

Someone has left a bonfire going, as a large pile of foam is burning in the middle of the factory floor.
action: Stock room
response: Pedaling madly away, you ride like the wind...

Jean Stock, on the bike

Your old self stands here.
action: Jack and the bean stalk
response: The mile-high stack of jeans slowly leans heavily into your direction and as it passes the point of no return in a chaos of color, fabric and rivets, all the jeans come tumbling down upon your head, knocking the well-oiled bicycle away and burying you completely in blackness.

When you come to, it's in a new environment...
action: Up
response: You'd never make it up the stalk while holding anything in your hands.
action: You drop all except the hat
response: crushing blow: The crushing blow falls harmlessly to the ground.
square meal: Dropped.
book of riddles: Dropped.
shiny key: Dropped.
action: Inventory
response: You have a hat.
It seems that the hat contains a head louse.
action: Up
response: You shinny up the bean stalk like a native. Soon your head's in the clouds, followed by your whole body...

You're on cloud 673. It's not exactly cloud nine but it's rather cushy, and certainly roomy enough to be the home of a giant, which it just so happens to be.

Before you stands a giant of exceptional cleanliness, hands on his hips, wearing an immaculately tailored and dazzlingly white tee shirt. So statuesque is the figure of the giant that the floor of the cloud on which he stands sags noticeably under his weight.

Off to one side of the cloud, a great many beets are piled up inside a shed, evidently having been harvested from the green acres below in order to satisfy the cravings of one gigantic appetite.

Laughing maliciously, the giant leans over and spills a large bucketful of thick, creamy butter on the bean stalk.
action: Bed sheet
response: The entire cloud becomes turbulently billowy, its vapors undulating around and enveloping the shed. As the cloud recedes back to form, a pile of sheets is revealed lying in place of the beets.
"Deny me my daily bread, will you, scoundrel!" decries Mr. Clean in a stern voice.

Glaring at you from high above are the giant's pair of sparkling eyes which are deep-set into his shiny bald head.
action: You give the hat to the giant
response: You'll have to remove the hat first.

The roar of a passing supersonic flight of fancy can be heard, and the wake of its exhaust ruffles the cloud for a few moments.
action: You remove the hat
response: [I don't know the word "halbred."]

You remove the hat.
action: You give the hat to the giant
response: The giant greedily snatches your offering and eyes it with suspicion. The big giant examines his fingernails, unfolds his massive arms and puts his hands on his hips.
action: Lead house
response: You can see the giant's feet sinking deeply into the cloud floor, which soon gives way to the weight of the giant holding a lead house at his chest. You get a close-up, front-row view of the horrified expression across his huge face as it passes down in front of you and through the cloud.
action: Look around
response: You're on cloud 673. It's not exactly cloud nine but it's rather cushy, and certainly roomy enough to be the home of a giant, which it just so happens to be.

You can see bed sheets here.
action: You examine sheets
response: The many bed sheets are soft and fluffy as the cloud, yet seem to be made of sturdy fabric.
action: You tie the sheet to the sheet
response: One by one, you tie together the bed sheets, testing each knot with a firm tug accompanied by a tight-lipped grunt. Now off the edge of the cloud gets thrown the line of sheets, which is strung out and down, looking like a long kite tail swaying gently in the breeze.

The last sheet you tie firmly to the cloud itself.
action: You examine the stalk
response: It's coated with melting butter.
action: You go downward
response: You grip the line of sheets and begin your hand-over-hand descent from the sky, feeling the sharp winds against your back. As your biceps begin tightening to the point of pain, you are again close to the land. And none too soon, for a few feet above the ground the tension of the life line is broken, and you tumble down to earth, buried under a waterfall of sheets that comes streaming down upon your head. Restlessly you dig yourself out...

The jean client, having been smashed back into his currently thin man-sized shape, stands here looking disheveled and shaken.

You can see bed sheets, a shiny key, a book of riddles, a square meal and a crushing blow here.

Impulsively, the client dashes nearer, whips a needle out of his pocket, and begins to maliciously sew you to a sheet.
action: You show yourself to a the seat
response: Bumped by the train of your thoughts, the client pokes himself sharply with his needle. To the accompaniment of ripping stitches and popping buttons, the client's ire, along with his stature, is raised to the great height of a giant. Between thumb and forefinger, he smashes the intervening chair into splinters, which drift away above the rural landscape. Almost in slow-motion the giant starts after you.

The giant's nearly upon you.
action: You get the crushing blow
response: Taken.

The giant's nearly upon you.
action: You hit the giant with crushing blow
response: KABOOM! The ground quakes with the staggering of the giant. Appearing like a punch drunk fighter, he weaves round and round, all the while shrinking in size, finally to the lowly hunched figure of the client. Humiliated at his defeat, the man makes a Chaplinesque exit, kicking dust as he walks crookedly away.
action: You get all
response: shiny key: Taken.
book of riddles: Taken.
square meal: Taken.
action: You look
response: A page from the imagination of your childhood, an illustration of a country scene, an open field amid rolling hills under blue sky punctuated by cottony soft clouds, next to a simple story punctuated by exclamation points.

An overgrown bean stalk grows thick and tall up into the clouds. Nowadays, sadly, it seems the stalk would have to be rationalized, explained away somehow by experts, as an ominous instance of radioactive mutation, or as a patented, genetically manufactured hybrid -- rather than attributed to, as in the old days, simply, magic. Such a realization stirs a nostalgic longing for the days of yore when imagination reigned in all its grandeur and innocence.
action: You examine the stalk
response: It's coated with melting butter.
action: Jean Stock
response: A swift cloud of dust blows up from the trackless wastes into your face, causing you to bring your fists to your eyes like binoculars. After much rubbing, your vision, though blurry at first, returns to reveal familiar surroundings...

A sold elf stands here.

You can see a well-oiled bicycle here.
action: You look at River
response: This is the shore of a river, between two tributaries of the Rhine.

Lines of sand-script are scrawled on the shore.
action: Roar shine
response: [I don't know the word "roar."]

experience on the shore, she instead, by leaps and bounds, sprints toward the Rhine and dives headlong into the river.
action: Swim
response: You'll have to shake off your toes first.
action: You take off the shoes
response: Though you feel like a real beach nut, it does the trick. You now dive deep into danger and pull out a gritty pearl from the bottom of the river and come back to shore.
action: Schep you're a the star
response: [What do you want to tell?]
action: Pretty girl
response: Tiny grains of sand fall from the pearl as it begins to pulse slowly with radiant red light, whose brightness soon becomes blinding. When you're finally able to move your arms away from your face, you can see a beautiful girl before you.
action: You drop the bike
response: Dropped.
action: You give the meal to the girl
response: Wide-eyed, the girl turns the square meal in her hands, marveling at the exactitude of its right angles. She then hungrily devours it in several large neck-stretching gulps.
action: Gritty pearl
response: The girl withers down into a pearl.
action: Clearing
response: With all the enthusiasm of a child actor in a Steven Spielberg movie with a percentage, you pedal away...

Clearing, on the bike

There is one door here that is not connected to any building and which is closed.
action: You exit bike
response: You get off the well-oiled bicycle.
action: You unlock the door with the key
response: "Click." As you unlock the door the key is swallowed by the lock. A tunnel of darkness opens up to you, and you cautiously walk inside. You almost vanish into the darkness, it is so black.

But just now you can discern a fuzzy light beginning to shine from the pearl. It brightens to illuminate your upper body, creating a halo of pure white light around you. So astounding is the effect of the brightened pearl, that it spills from your hand and rolls vanishingly away from you, echoing grittily along the tunnel.

Congratulations are in order. Having braved mutable strangeness and having made the heroic gesture of a rescue, you make possible the reuniting in joy of a grateful Punster family. This feat earns you the rank of Kinkering Cong.

It would be prudent to commit to memory this and all ranks you have achieved.

(Truth is, there was one more thing that could've been accomplished shaking a tower.)

You now have the opportunity to do one of the following:

>Go to the Shopping Bizarre
>Play Jacks
>Buy the Farm
>Eat your Words
>Act the Part
>Visit the Manor of Speaking
>Shake a Tower
>Meet the Mayor
action: You buy the the farm
response: The farm crisis never seemed so desperate as it has this planting season in Punster. One such family farm on the edge of town, the McCleary's, has been especially blighted. The family, though well accustomed to hard work, suddenly lost the ability to perform even the simplist of chores necessary to scratch a living from the soil. They have since been driven from the land, and join with their fellow Punster neighbors in urging you to somehow save the family farm.

The telltail smell of grain and dung drifts by. You're on a dusty road in front of abandoned farm -- a nice-sized spread of land that stretches far out to meet the horizon.

A wooden cart sits in the dusty road here.

An old dog sits in the dust at the side of the road, feeling all of the spirit of gravity, looking dog-eared and worn out by a lifetime on the farm.
action: You teach the old dog the new tricks
response: The old dog perks up one of its dog-eared ears, then the other. Its tail emerges from the surrounding dust and begins oscillating back and forth with such intensity that you'd think it was a case of the tail wagging the dog.

In turn the old boy goes through a series of back flips, chases its tail, walks around on his hind legs, and howls at the moon. The dog, bursting with energy through its shiny new coat, is no longer dry as the dust that surrounds it.

Suddenly by leaps and bounds, the old dog bolts away, and comes back with one stone in its slobbery mouth.
action: You look around
response: The telltail smell of grain and dung drifts by. You're on a dusty road in front of abandoned farm -- a nice-sized spread of land that stretches far out to meet the horizon.

A wooden cart sits in the dusty road here.

A youthful-looking old dog is here, chasing his tail.
action: Cast stone
response: The old dog tears out after the stone and retrieves it back to you, panting and holding it in his slobbery mouth.
action: You look at the cart
response: This is simple a wooden cart, made to be drawn by a beast of burden.
action: Barnyard
response: You trudge along and get there...

You're standing here in the barnyard, a meager patch of scratched earth. You can tell right away what a dog-eat-dog world the farm can be, as you see lying on the ground a sow's ear, and then some poor animal's tail.

You can see a full complement of swords leaning up against the broad side of the barn, looking very out of place here on the farm.

You can see a sow's ear and a tail here.

The old dog follows behind you.
action: You get all
response: full complement of swords: These implements of ancient warfare have nothing to do with your task on the farm.
sow's ear: Taken.
tail: Taken.
action: You beat the sword into ploughshares
response: If you only had a hammer...
action: You hit the the broad side of a the barn
response: You wind up, haul off, and throw a haymaker at the barn.

"Thump."

No one can ever challenge your accuracy after this.
action: Barn
response: You kick up a little sawdust as you enter the barn...

You're surrounded by the deep shade of a nearly abandoned barn, with very little activity but for an occasional hoot of an owl. Yet toward the rear of the barn, under the loft, a cascading spillage of grain is creating an ever-widening pile.

A wooden ladder leads, presumably, up to the loft.

Over near the wide entrance to the barn, there stands a canister of milk.

The old dog enthusiastically bounds into the barn after you, and heedless of where it's going crashes into the canister of milk, spilling it in a wide puddle on the floor of the barn.

The dog looks sheepish, and exits the barn with its tail between its legs.
action: You cry over the spilled milk
response: In throwing your fit, you can hear the poor ol' dog yowling in the distance.
action: You examine the grain
response: You can see, falling down within the silky stream of golden grain, a succession of little mice spread-eagled and smiling widely, some giggling, others tumbling head over heels. They each splash deeply into the ever-widening pile of grain, and then burrow out the side of it, and disappear somewhere in the barn.
action: Go upward
response: It's humid up here in the loft, muggy with the heavy smell of barley corn in summer. Bags of the pungent grain, all of them torn up and derelict, are strewn about the edge of the loft, creating a constant spillage over the side into which mice are leaping.
action: Up
response: This area at one time must have been used by a handyman, for against one wall a grindstone sits idle with a hammer next to it.

A wooden ladder leads down from the loft.

[Refer to the top of the screen to find out where you can go.]
action: You examine the mice
response: The mice are wildly enjoying the grain.
action: You get the bag
response: Without heavy farm machinery, you could never tidy up this mess.
action: You walk under the ladder
response: You bang your bean against the wooden ladder as you attempt this.
action: Road
response: You trudge along and get there...

A wooden cart sits in the dusty road here.
action: Barnyard
response: You trudge along and get there...

A youthful-looking old dog is here, sitting up.
It seems that the old dog has one stone.

You can see a full complement of swords leaning up against the broad side of the barn, looking very out of place here on the farm.
action: Stable
response: You follow your nose to the stable...

The strong, earthy smell in this wide-open area reminds you that you're on a farm. So meet the primary interior decorator of the stable: a very odd-looking horse who snorts when it sees you.

You can see a rusty tin trough here.
action: You lead the horse to the water
response: You lead the horse, suddenly trusting of you, over to the trough.
action: You make the horse drink
response: Not only can you lead a horse to water, but contrary to popular belief, you CAN make him drink. He slurps his fill of water, and with unbridled energy, he trots away toward the road.
action: Road
response: You trudge along and get there...

An odd-looking horse stands here, nonchalantly shooing at flies with its tail.

A wooden cart sits in the dusty road here.
action: You put cart before horse
response: Using perfectly backward logic, you put the cart before the horse.
action: You examine the horse
response: The horse, which is a hackney, is wearing a large red-ribbon bow in place of a saddle and is hooked up to the cart. It continues shooing at flies with its tail.
action: You look a gift horse in the the mouth
response: It looks like the horse has drunk a lot of water.
action: Market
response: With the horse pushing rather than pulling the cart, you follow a crooked and bumpy road for some time. You faintly hear sweet music from a woodwind drifting toward you, and sure enough, around the next bend you come upon a man playing music on a flute. You pull the cart to a rumbling halt, and the horse gives a snort.

Seeing you, the piper plays a short flat note, draws the pipe from his mouth, and takes quick inventory of the wares he is peddling: a cart full of apples, a rumpled canvas bag, and some strong-smelling peppers.
action: Upset the apple cart
response: [getting out of the cart first]
Visibly perturbed, the stacked apples begin to tremble and quake, until one apple heaves up out of the pile and into the air. Your horsey companion eyeballs the apple, bares his teeth, tilts back his long mane, and catches it. He loudly chomps it into a pulp, and swallows.
action: You examine the bag
response: The piper quickly tells you there's a pig in the bag.
action: You look at the peppers
response: With narrowed eyes you take stock: There seems to be about a peck.
action: You pick a peck of the pickled peppers
response: "That's easy for you to say," says the piper, and with a sweep of his pipe, allows you to take away peppers.
action: You get the bag
response: The piper strikes a high shrill note, like that of a policeman's whistle. "Hands off the merchandise," he says, and then goes on piping a merrier tune.
action: Inventory
response: You have peck of pickled peppers, a hammer, a tail and a sow's ear.
action: You feel bag
response: Keeping in touch with the canvas bag doesn't do anything.

"It'll cost you a pretty penny, one fine sow, she is, she is," says the piper.
action: You pay the the piper
response: You have no money!

You have peck of pickled peppers, a hammer, a tail and a sow's ear.
action: You give the piper the tail
response: Briskly, the piper refuses your offer.
action: Field
response: It's really too long a walk.
action: You get in the cart
response: Look around you.
action: Road
response: With the horse pushing rather than pulling the cart, you follow a crooked and bumpy road for some time...

Road, in the wooden cart
action: You get out
response: [What do you want to get out?]
action: You stand
response: You get out of the wooden cart.
action: You put the horse before the cart
response: The horse snorts and rears. It seems paranoid about having the cart behind it.
action: Field
response: You trudge along and get there...

You are standing at the edge of a barren field that is reminiscent of the dust bowl days. A steady wind, having secreted away the topsoil, is now drifting sandy dirt across the plain. A scant sign of life here is a freshly burrowed molehill on the ground.

Marking the corner of the property is a large stack of hay, whose musty odor sticks in your nostrils.
action: You search the haystack
response: What on earth do you expect to find in a haystack?
action: Needle
response: It's hard, of course, because all those stalks of hay look like needles themselves. The needle is found twinkling brightly silver among the yellow stalks of hay grass. You grab it.
action: You make a the mountain out of a the molehill
response: There is a tremendous rumbling in the distance, getting louder and louder, until it is deafening. The ground shakes with violence from the mammoth pressures of the earth's crust. The dirt around the molehill crumbles away as mighty, jagged granite peaks begin to emerge from deep underneath it, and you are knocked back as the mountain continues to rise majestically.

The surrounding landscape, once bleak, now undergoes transformation into a fertile valley before your very eyes. Crops sprout and grow tall with the crisp snapping sound of fresh corn being husked.

Yet with the abundance comes new dangers, as two birds can be seen circling above, surveying the lush crops.
action: Inventory
response: You have a needle, peck of pickled peppers, a hammer, a tail and a sow's ear. You also notice a green tint to your thumb.
action: You look in the purse
response: Opening the silk purse reveals a pretty penny.
action: You sow the wild oats
response: You can't see any wild oats here!

You have a pretty penny, a silk purse, a needle, peck of pickled peppers, a hammer and a tail.
action: You examine the tail
response: It looks like every other tail you've ever seen.
action: You look around
response: You are standing in a fertile valley among the tall and lush crops in the field. Mountains bordering the valley serve to shield the fields from damaging wind storms.

Two birds are circling high above, and every once in a while swoop down upon the field to despoil the green acres.

Marking the corner of the property is a large stack of hay, whose musty odor sticks in your nostrils.
action: You find the needle in haystack
response: You already have.
action: Barnyard
response: You trudge along and get there...

A lot of plowshares are lying over by the broad side of the barn.

A youthful-looking old dog is here, doing back flips into the air.
It seems that the old dog has one stone.
action: Field
response: You trudge along and get there...

Two birds are circling high above, and every once in a while swoop down upon the field to despoil the green acres.

Marking the corner of the property is a large stack of hay, whose musty odor sticks in your nostrils.
action: You kill two birds with one stone
response: Sensing their impending doom, the birds flutter down to take refuge within the dense, green acreage. Just now, the old dog, looking as spritely as ever, comes bouncing upon the scene. Intensely, the old boy scours back and forth between the furrows, finally scratching to a stop.

He freezes, raises one paw, and stiffens his tail parallel to the ground.

The flush is made! The birds pop up frantically from the cover, criss-crossing each other's heavenward flight path.

You take aim and throw, and the birds explode in rapid succession like clay pigeons.

The old dog lets out a long, wolfish howl which echoes thoughout the valley.
action: Stable
response: You follow your nose to the stable...

You can see a rusty tin trough here.
action: You look around
response: The strong, earthy smell in this wide-open area reminds you that you're on a farm.

You can see a rusty tin trough here.
action: You examine trough
response: The rusty old trough is divided into two parts, containing water and wild oats.
action: Field
response: You trudge along and get there...

A youthful-looking old dog is here, tripping around on his hind legs.

Marking the corner of the property is a large stack of hay, whose musty odor sticks in your nostrils.
action: Road
response: You trudge along and get there...

A wooden cart with a horse hooked up to it sits in the dusty road here.

As you stop in the road, suddenly a bucking donkey with a swarm of buzzing flies chasing it crosses the road in front of you and heads towards the stable.
action: Market
response: With the horse pushing rather than pulling the cart, you follow a crooked and bumpy road for some time...

Market, in the wooden cart

Along side the road stands a man playing a pipe and selling his wares.

You can see an applecart and a canvas bag here.
action: You pay the the piper
response: [getting out of the cart first]
"It's a deal!" says the man. "I like the way you do business -- buying a pig in a poke." You pay the piper and he plucks the pretty penny from you. "Okay, she's yours. Take it."
action: You take the bag
response: As you touch the bag you hear "Meow... Meow." You gingerly pick up the bag. It continues moving slowly in your hands.
action: You let the the cat out of the the bag
response: "All sales are final!" pipes the piper. Just now a furry cat appears out of one of the folds in the bag. But finding nothing of particular interest, it rolls itself back into the bag.
action: Road
response: It's really too long a walk.
action: Barn
response: You kick up a little sawdust as you enter the barn...

A cascading grainfall is spilling onto the barn floor. Mice appear to be riding the grain down.

Over near the wide entrance to the barn, there lies spilt milk.
action: You let the cat out of the the bag
response: Just now a furry cat appears out of one of the folds in the bag. Suddenly the cat lets out an electrified scream in your arms. You feel keenly its needle claws emerge from hitherto cottony paws, and the cat shoots out of your arms. Now the feline makes a beeline toward the grain. Like a fiery pin ball, the cat ricochets around the barn until the place is rocked into full tilt.

As the excitement dies down, you see the grainfall slow to a trickle and then the last bits of grain hit the pile with a "tick... tick."

The mice are no longer to be seen.
action: You go upwards
response: You can see a grindstone and bags of grain here.
action: You look at the bag
response: It's closed.
action: Stable
response: You follow your nose to the stable...

A donkey is being chased willy-nilly around the stable being followed by a swarm of flies in hot and pesky pursuit.

You can see a rusty tin trough here.
action: You pin the tail to the donkey
response: It's so easy, you could do this blindfolded. Smarting from the sharpness of the needle, the donkey jacks its hooves into the air, narrowly missing your chin. But the beast of burden soon settles down, and starts shooing flies with its newly-won tail.
action: Inventory
response: You have a canvas bag, wild oats, a silk purse, peck of pickled peppers and a hammer.
action: Road
response: You trudge along and get there...

A wooden cart with a horse hooked up to it sits in the dusty road here.
action: Field
response: You trudge along and get there...

A youthful-looking old dog is here, wagging his tail.

Marking the corner of the property is a large stack of hay, whose musty odor sticks in your nostrils.
action: Barn
response: You kick up a little sawdust as you enter the barn...

Over near the wide entrance to the barn, there lies spilt milk. A cat is licking up the milk.
action: You put the nose to grindstone
response: Not again....
action: You buy the the farm
response: You've already arrived.
action: Go down
response: Over near the wide entrance to the barn, there lies spilt milk. A cat is licking up the milk.
action: Go outside
response: [Refer to the top of the screen to find out where you can go.]
action: Field
response: You trudge along and get there...

A youthful-looking old dog is here, baying at the moon.

Marking the corner of the property is a large stack of hay, whose musty odor sticks in your nostrils.
action: You look oats
response: Use prepositions to indicate precisely what you want to do: LOOK AT the object, LOOK INSIDE it, LOOK UNDER it, etc.
action: You look
response: You are standing in a fertile valley among the tall and lush crops in the field. Mountains bordering the valley serve to shield the fields from damaging wind storms.

A youthful-looking old dog is here, tripping around on his hind legs.

Marking the corner of the property is a large stack of hay, whose musty odor sticks in your nostrils.
action: Smell the hay
response: It smells just like a haystack.
action: You examine the crops
response: The lush crops, gently waving in the breeze, stretch far to the horizon.
action: You examine the field
response: You are standing in a fertile valley among the tall and lush crops in the field. Mountains bordering the valley serve to shield the fields from damaging wind storms.

A youthful-looking old dog is here, doing back flips into the air.

Marking the corner of the property is a large stack of hay, whose musty odor sticks in your nostrils.
action: You look at the dog
response: The dog has a shiny black coat, and displays the abundant energy of a hungry hunting dog.
action: You climb the mountain
response: No dice.
action: Harvest
response: [What do you want to harvest?]
action: Harvest crops
response: That's best left for the professionals.
action: Barn
response: You trudge along and get there...

A wooden cart with a horse hooked up to it sits in the dusty road here.

You kick up a little sawdust as you enter the barn...

Over near the wide entrance to the barn, there lies spilt milk. A cat is licking up the milk.
action: Don'T cry over the spilled milk
response: You manage the ol' stiff upper lip, and the dog comes bounding back up to you.

Congratulations for the completion of these 19 chores. You have transformed their abandoned husk of a farm into a horn of plenty. The McCleary's, under your tutelage, have learned much about how to manage their farm, coping with the tough realities of modern farming. After this long period of want, the townspeople of Punster will feast heartily upon the fruits of your labor. You shall be honored by them with the rank of Sodbuster.

You now have the opportunity to do one of the following:

>Go to the Shopping Bizarre
>Play Jacks
>Eat your Words
>Act the Part
>Visit the Manor of Speaking
>Shake a Tower
>Meet the Mayor
action: Shopping bizarre
response: On a recent Friday night at the Supermarket, the usual shopping frenzy suddenly turned into shopping panic. Crazed bargain-hunters, recklessly pushing shopping carts before them, were observed to stream from the aisles and out the market, many of whom not even stopping to pause in the parking lot. Whatever it was that caused the panic, one thing's for sure -- business has never been the same. By restoring some semblance of order to this bizarre situation, and perhaps purchasing some item or another, you can begin to rebuild customer confidence.

You are all alone in a dessert aisle. The hum of a long freezer that runs the length of the aisle is monotonous and the air blows chilly upon your skin.

An imposing, broad-shouldered adult moose, dark chocolate from hoof to antler, stands here chewing its thick brown cud and blocking part of this narrow aisle.
action: Chocolate mousse
response: There's a sudden, belching "poof" of smoke, and the odor of burnt chocolate.

With the down-sizing of the big lug, you can see there are numbers inside your grocer's freezer, rather than goodies.
action: Pie
response: The thing undergoes a deafening amount of number crunching.
action: You look around
response: You are all alone in a dessert aisle. The hum of a long freezer that runs the length of the aisle is monotonous and the air blows chilly upon your skin.

You can see chocolate mousse here.
action: You put the pie in the freezer
response: Done.
action: Meat
response: [You'll have to be more specific.]
action: Look around
response: You are all alone in a dessert aisle. The hum of a long freezer that runs the length of the aisle is monotonous and the air blows chilly upon your skin.

You can see chocolate mousse here.
It seems that your grocer's freezer contains a pie.
action: You examine the pie
response: It looks like every other pie you've ever seen.
action: Chocolate moose
response: "Poof!" The moose is suddenly enveloped in a thick plume of chocolaty smoke. The large mammal lands awkwardly on the floor.
action: Chocolate mousse
response: There's a sudden, belching "poof" of smoke, and the odor of burnt chocolate.
action: Manicotti
response: You dash around the corner, sliding on the high-sheen surface of the well-waxed supermarket floor...

As its name indicates, this is the aisle where grains and cereals are stocked.

About halfway down the aisle there is a sinister and pallid-looking gentleman in a dark tuxedo. He appears to be systematically destroying boxes of cereal, taking deep bites into them with his long fangs.

Sitting on the shelves is an infinite variety of cereals.
action: Pi
response: Pie to pi.

The pallid gentleman continues his rampage by tearing his fangs into a package of tortellini.
action: Serial killer
response: (True, he is both a cereal and a SERIAL murderer, but just knowing his modus operandi doesn't defeat him.)

The pallid gentleman continues his rampage by murdering, in cold red dye #2, a package of Froot Loops.
action: Meets
response: You zip around the corner...

This is where people tend to run into each other....

Sitting on the shelf are a mince and a steak.

You notice a blur of colorful lace and flowing blond hair come rolling off one of the shelves. A little girl stands at your feet.
action: You get the steak
response: Taken.

Tattooing your knee caps with her little fists, the little girl starts throwing a tantrum.
action: Stake
response: Under your gaze, the meat starts sizzling and smoking wildly, licking flames into the air till nothing is left to it but a charred and pointed stick.

Practicing field goals upon your shins, the little girl continues testing your threshold of pain.
action: Mint
response: You catch a whiff of fresh little candies as the mince goes to pieces and becomes white before your eyes.

The little girl keeps on boxing your calves.
action: Bratwurst
response: The little girl begins running away in horror. She tumbles head over heels to the floor in a blur, and then you observe a sausage come rolling to a stop.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: This is where people tend to run into each other....

Sitting on the shelf are mints.
action: Mince
response: You hear the tortured "moo" of a cow in the distance.
action: Inventory
response: You have mince, bratwurst, a stake and 22/7.
action: Misc
response: You dash around the corner, sliding on the high-sheen surface of the well-waxed supermarket floor...

This aisle is filled with various and sundry items.

Sitting on the shelves are tacks, a sail and mussels.
action: Tax
response: You hear the distant ring-ring of cash registers.
action: Muscles
response: You feel yourself undergo a Hulkian physical transformation, with material ripping and buttons popping and the whole bit.
action: Look around
response: This aisle is filled with various and sundry items.

Sitting on the shelves is a sale.
action: Smash
response: [What do you want to smash?]
action: Manicotti
response: You zip around the corner...

About halfway down the aisle there is a sinister and pallid-looking gentleman in a dark tuxedo.

Sitting on the shelves is an infinite variety of cereals.

The pallid gentleman continues his rampage by devilishly ripping into a package of pasta primavera.
action: Smash tax
response: Trying to destroy the tax accomplishes nothing.

The pallid gentleman continues his rampage by tucking into a package of sugar-frosted flakes.
action: You attack the cereal killer with the stake
response: The cereal murderer faces you open-mouthed, and his bad breath caused by all his recent activity drives you back down the aisle.

The pallid gentleman continues his rampage by tearing his fangs into a package of linguini.
action: Mints
response: You catch a whiff of fresh little candies as the mince goes to pieces and becomes white before your eyes.

The pallid gentleman continues his rampage by murdering, in cold red dye #2, a package of Count Chocula.
action: You give the mints to the killer
response: You toss the mints down the aisle to him. He summarily bites them, then flings them away over the shelves. There's a noticable improvement in his breath, even from here.

The pallid gentleman continues his rampage by devilishly ripping into a package of rice crispies.
action: You kill the killer with the stake
response: With a powerful thrust, you drive the stake deep into the heart of the now horrified cereal murderer. He collapses to the floor, blood trickling out of the sides of his mouth. Then he vanishes with a puff of pale blue smoke.
action: You look around
response: As its name indicates, this is the aisle where grains and cereals are stocked.

Sitting on the shelves is an infinite variety of cereals.
action: You examine the cereals
response: It's dizzying to look at all the different brands. The shelf reaches a vanishing point at either end of the long aisle.
action: You write
response: You zip around the corner...



This is the stationery section.

Powdery white flour has been spilled onto the floor alongside the shelves.

The far end of the aisle appears to be blocked off by a solid wall of quartz.

Sitting on the shelf are a large block of stationary and a bear clause.
action: Flower
response: The white powder drifts away like the shifting sands of the desert -- in its place, a flower.
action: Quarts
response: The surface of the wall crumbles away, revealing a tall and wide stack of quarts.
action: Stationery
response: The floor of the aisle rumbles and the shelf bounces a few inches off its foundation, as the "stationary" takes on the markings of many reams of stationery bundled together.
action: You sniff the flower
response: The flower contains a wonderful scent.
action: Bear claws
response: The paper dries up and blows away, replaced by -- bear claws!
action: Cent
response: You can hear it -- the penny drops.
action: Look around
response: This is the stationery section.

The far end of the aisle appears to be blocked off by a tall stack of quarts.

Sitting on the shelf are reams of stationery.
action: Bear clause
response: The hairy fist clenches itself so tightly that it becomes two-dimensional  -- paper.
action: You read the paper
response: [Which paper do you mean, the reams of stationery or the bear clause?]
action: You look at the door
response: It's lined with many different kinds of locks.
action: Lox
response: Smoke issues from each of the locks, as they turn into smoked salmon.
action: You take the lox
response: You "unlox" the door by gathering the smoked salmon.
action: You open the door
response: Although you tug your hardest, you can see the door jamb is too tight against the door.
action: You read the clause
response: Written on a brittle, yellowing piece of paper are the words:

"A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and arm Bears, shall not be infringed."
action: Jam
response: The outline of the door smokes, and hot fresh jam oozes out from the outline of the door onto the floor.
action: You open the door
response: The door swings open.
action: Claws
response: The paper dries up and blows away, replaced by -- bear claws!
action: You get the claws
response: You already have the bear claws.
action: You enter door
response: You walk down the rickety stairs.

This is the empty cellar of the market.
action: Seller
response: The room starts spinning madly around, the four walls begin to close in on you. When it finally slows enough for you to open your eyes, you see a woman wearing a store uniform.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: This is the empty cellar of the market.

A seller stands here.
action: Cellar
response: The clerk's body becomes cubist, expands, and engulfs you.
action: Look around
response: This is the empty cellar of the market.
action: You sell the cellar
response: [Whom do you want to sell the cellar to?]
action: Inventory
response: You have lox, bear claws, a cent, a flower, a sale, a tax, muscles, bratwurst and 22/7.
action: Pi
response: You can see the number 22 frozen over the number 7.
action: Pie
response: The thing undergoes a deafening amount of number crunching.
action: You sell the pie to the seller
response: The seller offhandedly rejects the pie.

"I'm a seller, not a receiver, damn it. You want to buy something, then buy it."
action: You give the sale to the seller
response: The seller offhandedly rejects the sale.

"I'm a seller, not a receiver, damn it. You want to buy something, then buy it."
action: You buy the cellar
response: If the cellar were only on sale, you might be able to afford it.
action: You drop sale
response: Dropped.
action: Seller
response: The room starts spinning madly around, the four walls begin to close in on you. When it finally slows enough for you to open your eyes, you see a woman wearing a store uniform.
action: You give cent to the seller
response: "Exactly what is it you want to buy?"
action: British
response: You climb up the stairs, going to...

The floor here is richly painted in the bold colours of Brittania.

Under a large sign, a box boy is frantically filling and overfilling the shelves with boxes, which are spilling over into the aisle and blocking the way.
action: You examine the sign
response: Large block letters proclaim:

Putting Section.
action: Box boy
response: The entire body of the boy is made out of various sized boxes.
action: Pudding
response: The boxes begin swirling into a dark, menacing whirlwind, causing you to cover yourself up defensively. In an instant there is again calm, with order having been restored to the aisle.
Having tidied up the place, you can now see a trail of ants crawling along the aisle floor.
action: Aunts
response: Instantly, the little creatures become big creatures.

The aunts start milling.
action: You check what you're carrying
response: You have lox, bear claws, a cent, a flower, a tax, muscles, bratwurst and a pie.

The milling aunts are gawking and talking among themselves.
action: You listen to aunts
response: They sound just like aunts.

The milling aunts are gawking and talking among themselves.
action: You talk to the aunts
response: They are too busy gossiping among themselves.

The milling aunts are gawking and talking among themselves.
action: Worst brat
response: The sausage suddenly sprouts legs, and is transformed into the form of a small girl (thereby shattering the myth about sugar and spice and everything nice). She fiercely struggles from your grip and sprints away down the aisle into the waiting hands of her aunts. They thank you, then leave.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: The floor here is richly painted in the bold colours of Brittania.

Under a large sign, a wide variety of puddings are neatly stacked upon the shelves.
action: You get the pudding
response: They're best left on the shelf.
action: Cellar
response: You dash over to "I'll Write..." You walk down the rickety stairs.

A seller stands here.

You can see a sale here.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: You have lox, bear claws, a cent, a flower, a tax, muscles and a pie.
action: You get seller
response: What a concept.
action: You put the pie on sale
response: Done.
action: You buy the pie
response: Okay, you buy the pie, handing the cent and the tax to the seller.

Bravo! Cheer! Kudos! With your feats of homonymic skill, you have shown the way to restoring customer confidence to the puzzled shoppers of Punster. Having broken the tape at the end of your Bizarre shopping spree, you thusly achieve the esteemed rank of Super Saver.

You now have the opportunity to do one of the following:

>Play Jacks
>Eat your Words
>Act the Part
>Visit the Manor of Speaking
>Shake a Tower
>Meet the Mayor
action: Play jacks
response: The oddities of language have been so prevalant in the town of Punster, that surrounding communities have been similarly affected. One such bordering town is Jackville, located in the northern backwoods region, but still well within the realm of possibilities.

You have come upon a region far to the north of Punster, but still within the realm of possibilities. A simple wood-plank house stands near.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: You're empty-handed.
action: You enter the house
response: This drafty one-room cabin is so sparsely furnished as to be completely unfurnished. It looks like it has not been lived in for years and years.

There is a strange contraption leaning against one of the wood-plank walls.
action: You look at the contraption
response: You can see right away it's versatile.

It's sort of squarish, but sort of longish too and has a fluffy ball of cottony fur at one end. Its surface is made of thick cloth, except for one edge which is a long piece of metal that looks as if it can be pulled out.

On three different sides of the strange contraption you can see a hand crank, a water faucet, and an electrical switch. As if all that wasn't enough, there is also a pair of sleeves sticking out of the thing.
action: Wear contraption
response: As you slip on the jacket, you find that it fits you quite well. It feels a lot more comfortable than it looks.
action: Spin
response: [What do you want to spin?]
action: You remove the jacket
response: You slip off what feels to be a jacket. All features return to the Jack of all Traits.
action: You turn the crank
response: The Jack of all Traits begins to play a simple plunkety tune, and as the music becomes louder and louder the strange contraption starts looking a lot more like a box and a lot less like anything else, and the music gets louder and louder until...

"Pop!"

The lid springs open and a jester rears its jolly head.

"Boing... Boing"
action: You put Jack in the box
response: You can almost swear that the jester winks at you as his head is lowered into the box and the lid is shut with a "Click." All the other features of the Jack of all Traits come back.
action: You flip the switch
response: "Rata-tat-tat! Rata-rata-rata-rata Tat-tat-tat!" The Jack of all Traits powerfully roars to life as you hang on the wildly chugging jackhammer like a rodeo cowboy.
action: You turn off the switch
response: One hand slips off the handle and hits the switch. The jackhammer coughs, wheezes and shudders to a halt. All the features of the Jack of all Traits return.
action: You stab yourself
response: Done.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: This drafty one-room cabin is so sparsely furnished as to be completely unfurnished. It looks like it has not been lived in for years and years.
action: Pat ball of fur
response: The ball of fur twitches excitedly for a moment. Suddenly the Jack of all Traits seems to give birth as a full-grown jackrabbit is ejected from the contraption. His metabolism, following its winter of cooped-up discontent, seems to be racing away. But the furry mammal itself remains at your feet, all atremble. He pauses to look up at you. To the extent that his beady red eyes are able to emote, he seems to express gratitude. Then, with a jackrabbit start, he is gone.
action: You examine the contraption
response: You can see right away it's versatile.

It's sort of squarish, but sort of longish too. Its surface is made of thick cloth, except for one edge which is a long piece of metal that looks as if it can be pulled out.

On three different sides of the strange contraption you can see a hand crank, a water faucet, and an electrical switch. As if all that wasn't enough, there is also a pair of sleeves sticking out of the thing.
action: You pull the metal
response: The long piece of metal, in reality the glistening, razor-sharp blade of a jackknife, pivots out of its handle and with a "snap!" all the other features of the Jack of all Traits vanish.
action: You close the knife
response: Being careful that you don't lop off any fingers, you pivot the blade back and it closes with a "snap!" All the other dimensions of the Jack of all Traits return.
action: You turn on the faucet
response: There is a deep gurgling sound, then scalding hot water begins gushing out of the faucet, and you are surrounded by a thick cloud of steam. As the steam begins to thin out, you find yourself leaning back in a hot tub with Jacuzzi, and you can't remember when being in hot water ever felt so good.
action: You turn off the faucet
response: The washerless faucet spins round, and some hot, steamy water gurgles out.
action: You look at the jacuzzi
response: The well-insulated tub's full of hot steamy water and you. There's a plug at the bottom of the hot tub.
action: You pull the plug
response: The water, slowly at first, begins to swirl toward the plug, creating a whirl of water so loud that it's nightmarish. You close your eyes and cover your ears and when you hear the last loud slurp you find yourself standing again.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: You're empty-handed.
action: Inventory
response: You have a jacket (being worn).
action: You take off jacket
response: You slip off what feels to be a jacket. All features return to the Jack of all Traits.
action: You flip the switch
response: "Rata-tat-tat! Rata-rata-rata-rata Tat-tat-tat!" The Jack of all Traits powerfully roars to life as you hang on the wildly chugging jackhammer like a rodeo cowboy.
action: Leave
response: You walk along the trail a long way. With each uncertain step you take, it grows darker. Clouds gather. With large puffy white cheeks, they blow noisy cold across the sky, as will happen in this changeable realm.

It looks like a picture of a wedding gown in a snow storm.

The cold wind is breezing right through you.
action: You turn on the faucet
response: Your fingers are so stiff with cold, it's impossible.
action: You wear the jacket
response: As you slip on the jacket, you find that it fits you quite well. It feels a lot more comfortable than it looks. It offers much shelter from the cold, which is now nipping at your nose.
action: Go west
response: [Refer to the top of the screen to find out where you can go.]

Despite the shelter of the jacket, you're still in the midst of a cold snap. You begin to smell the vague illusory odor of "chestnuts roasting on an open fire."
action: You look at Jack
response: Suddenly, all of the thick, nasty weather surrounding you begins to swirl, then lift, slowly at first, and then more rapidly up above your head, then up further to expose the large and many trunks of dense evergreen forest, and then up and past the high tops of the trees themselves and into the heavens.

The mountain air is still and cold. You are next to a frozen-over pond, ringed by dense forest.

There is an old wooden sign leaning slightly over.

An old man is next to the pond, standing bent like one of the age old trees of the forest, with the frost of storms past still clinging in its whiteness upon his dark overcoat. He holds in his hands a gnarled stick.

The man refuses to communicate with you, but stands still and silent as the mountain air.
action: You remove the jacket
response: You slip off what feels to be a jacket. All features return to the Jack of all Traits.
action: You examine the old man
response: He wears a permafrost frown upon his face, a face that betrays a lifetime of never any joy, never any surprise, never any sunshine.
action: You pull the plug
response: The water, slowly at first, begins to swirl toward the plug, creating a whirl of water so loud that it's nightmarish. You close your eyes and cover your ears and when you hear the last loud slurp you find yourself standing again.
action: You turn crank
response: The Jack of all Traits begins to play a simple plunkety tune, and as the music becomes louder and louder the strange contraption starts looking a lot more like a box and a lot less like anything else, and the music gets louder and louder until...

"Pop!"

The lid springs open and a jester rears its jolly head.

"Boing... Boing"

The jester winks at the frozen old man, and you can almost hear the rushing torrent of flood waters coming from deep within the heart of Jack Frost. Some human color suddenly rushes into his cheeks in a flush, reddening his face and thawing the frown into much dripping and wetness, which can scarcely be distinguished from tears of happiness.

Under a sunny disposition, a more quick and nimble Jack frolics down the path, making instant puddles out of his domain wherever he treads.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: The mountain air is still and cold. You are next to a frozen-over pond, ringed by dense forest.

There is an old wooden sign leaning slightly over.
action: You read sign
response: It reads:

NO DANGER! THICK ICE
action: You enter the ice
response: You walk out onto the middle of the frozen pond.

You're on a frozen pond covered by a thin layer of frost.
action: You look at the mermaid
response: The mermaid is tall, curvaceous and attractive, even with her long blond hair dripping wet. There is a large tangle of fishing line wrapped around her sizable tail fin. She's wearing a shark-tooth necklace.
action: You pull the metal
response: The long piece of metal, in reality the glistening, razor-sharp blade of a jackknife, pivots out of its handle and with a "snap!" all the other features of the Jack of all Traits vanish.
action: You cut the line
response: [What do you want to cut the line with?]
action: You close the knife
response: Being careful that you don't lop off any fingers, you pivot the blade back and it closes with a "snap!" All the other dimensions of the Jack of all Traits return.
action: Hello mermaid
response: [The proper way to talk to characters in the story is PERSON, HELLO.]
action: Hello
response: The mermaid gives you a slow smile and tilts her head slightly to one side.
action: Kiss mermaid
response: You drift near enough to feel the warmth of her breath, which carries barely a hint of brine but is not unpleasant. She turns gracefully away.
action: You turn on the faucet
response: There is a deep gurgling sound, then scalding hot water begins gushing out of the faucet, and you are surrounded by a thick cloud of steam. As the steam begins to thin out, you find yourself leaning back in a hot tub with Jacuzzi, and you can't remember when being in hot water ever felt so good.

The mermaid is also in the hot tub, smiling with her eyes closed as she swims luxuriously through the water.
action: You ask the mermaid about the necklace
response: The mermaid gives you a slow smile while effortlessly and relaxingly treading water.
action: Look around
response: On Frozen Pond, in the tub

You're on a frozen pond covered by a thin layer of frost. There is a hole in the ice.
action: You pull the plug
response: The water, slowly at first, begins to swirl toward the plug, creating a whirl of water so loud that it's nightmarish. You close your eyes and cover your ears and when you hear the last loud slurp you find yourself standing again.

The mermaid, having been warmed by the dip in the hot tub, and freed of the entanglement of the fishing line, appears ready to brave the frigid waters for a long swim to warmer regions. She hyperventilates for a few moments and braces herself with a frenetic self-hug, stopping to give you a smile with her thin lips.

She bids farewell, and slips back into the frigid water, causing a little plop of water as her tail fin disappears beneath the surface.

Congratulations. You have been nimble and you have been quick. Punster will from here on out enjoy better relations with its northern neighbor, Jackville. The Citizen's Action Committee does hereby confer upon you the title of Jackster.

You now have the opportunity to do one of the following:

>Eat your Words
>Act the Part
>Visit the Manor of Speaking
>Shake a Tower
>Meet the Mayor
action: You act the the part
response: The foremost star of stage and scream in Punster, Brad Watkins, has left behind our small-town difficulties in search of fame and fortune beyond the purple horizon. We of course wish him the very worst of luck. It has been very dashing of you to take the stage in his absence. With the proper make-up applied, you're a side-splitting image.

Glaring bright lights bake down upon the stage.

The living room of your apartment is furnished in the drab period style of the 1950's situation comedy. Luckily, there's not much furniture on the set for you to bump into. However, one brass lamp with a rather ostentatious lamp shade stands here. A flimsy, union-constructed front door leads out of the apartment, another door leads to the bathroom. Both are closed. Your kitchen is at the other side of the stage.

Your favorite chair sits here facing the television.

You hear a man's voice from the other side of your front door. "Knock knock."
action: Who's there
response: "Bob."
action: Who's there
response: Good question.
action: Bob who
response: "Ba ba ba, ba ba ba-ran...."

The door swings open and in walks your irrepressible, long-lost ("but not long enough") brother-in-law Bob. "Howdy, Sammy! Just flew in from Pittsburgh. Boy are my arms tired," he says, flapping and smiling goonily. Bob extends his hand to you in greeting...
action: You shake the hand
response: Bob enthusiastically grabs your hand in greeting.

"Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz!"

It feels like you are shaking hands with a Hoover Dam generator, as the mega-voltages of power surging into the palm of your hand cause your entire body to writhe.

Bob doubles himself over with knee-slapping, gasping laughter. "I guess I got you that time, eh?" he says, flashing you the joy buzzer in his palm, and then skates into the kitchen.
action: Kitchen
response: You walk across the stage.

The kitchen suffers from the neglect so often decried by the 1950's sitcom husband in the presence of his 1950's sitcom wife.

There's a bottle in front of you. Your mind echos the phrase, "a bottle in front of me," which gives you ideas...

You can see a scalpel-like knife, a blue sponge and yellow rubber gloves here.

Your brother-in-law Bob swings open the refrigerator door, loads himself down, shuts the fridge door with his knee, and with his movable feast shuffles back into the living room.
action: You take all
response: hot-water bottle: The hot-water bottle, which is devoid of water but puffed up with air, is squeezed and emits a rude Bronx cheer. scalpel-like knife: Taken.
yellow rubber gloves: Taken.
action: Living room
response: You walk across the stage.

Well, it seems that Bob has already taken the liberty of moving the lamp away from his TV viewing area and over near the kitchen entrance, where you now have the misfortune of tripping over the cord from the lamp.

You take a pratfall, landing heavily on the floor to the beat of a bass drum, and then a rim shot. The crowd loves it.

Meanwhile, the live wire, ripped from the lamp but still plugged into the wall, snakes around the floor, spitting sparks out of the end that was torn from the lamp.

Bob, who is kicking back on your favorite chair, is too engrossed with the TV to notice any of this.

Glaring bright lights bake down upon the stage.

The living room of your apartment is furnished in the drab period style of the 1950's situation comedy. Luckily, there's not much furniture on the set for you to bump into. However, one brass lamp with a rather ostentatious lamp shade stands here. A flimsy, union-constructed front door leads out of the apartment, another door leads to the bathroom. Both are closed. Your kitchen is at the other side of the stage.

An electrical cord is plugged into the wall, the other end having been torn from the lamp.
action: You take all
response: electrical cord: The audience sucks in its collective breath at your bare-handedness, which gives you pause.
lamp: You've gotta be kidding.
lamp shade: Taken.

In your nervous hand, the lamp shade's gold tassels shake, perceptible only to yourself, slightly back and forth.
action: You wear shade
response: You lower the gaudy lamp shade over your deadpan face, pretending to be part of the furniture, which is how your brother-in-law Bob has treated you. As the laughs die down, you remove the shade.
action: You take cord
response: The audience sucks in its collective breath, and you gingerly pick up the live wire, with its end resting in the palm of the glove.
action: You take the lamp
response: Never in a thousand years.
action: Blow in bottle
response: You huff and puff until the hot-water bottle is full of hot air. Some members of the studio audience let out some anticipatory giggles.

Bob says, "Hey Sammy, what is this fly doing in my soup?"
action: Backstroke
response: The crowd eats it up.
action: The backstroke
response: Bob gets up and marches toward the kitchen, evidently to stock up on more goodies.

It looks like every other your shoulder you've ever seen.
action: The backstroke
response: Talking to yourself is a sign of impending mental collapse.
action: You put the bottle in the chair
response: It would be visible there.
action: You take the cushion
response: Nice try.
action: You put the bottle under the cushion
response: You slip the whoopee cushion into position. The audience begins tittering.

In walks the unsuspecting Bob, who is loaded down with goodies. He plops onto YOUR comfy chair.

"Bbbthpppffffthppp!" The crowd howls as poor Bob nearly loses his lunch in shock.
action: You touch the cord to bob
response: Bob reflexively extends his hand...

"Za za za za za za Zap!" Electrified by the experience, with his hair sticking straight out and a frightful expression stamped on his face, your brother-in-law Bob is powered willy-nilly into the air, with an involuntarily tight grip on the cord. You're holding the other end with your yellow rubber gloves, smiling calmly, as if you had a fly on the end of a string. The crowd loves it.

With a yank on the cord, Bob lands in a heap back onto your chair, a little shaken but no worse for the scare.
action: You check what you're carrying
response: You have an electrical cord, yellow rubber gloves (being worn), a lamp shade, a scalpel-like knife, a blue sponge and a coat (being worn).
It seems that the coat contains a match stick.
action: Light match
response: You scratch the match behind your left ear and it flares up.

The match continues burning down.
action: You put the match under the foot
response: Somebody yelling "Fire" in the crowded theater is enough to stop you.

The match continues burning down.
action: You put the match in the hole
response: As you slide the match neatly into the shoe hole, waves of knowing snickers ripple through the audience. With his eyes still glued to the television, your brother-in-law Bob tilts his head to one side, and sniffs the air twice. "I smell something burning, Sammy. You better go into the kitchen and check it Ow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wowwy!"

In a blur, the hot-footed Bob leaps from the chair and performs a Hiawathan rain dance to the insistent, rhythmic beat of Indian drums.

The crowd loves it.

There is the final sound effect of a thunder clap in the distance, and Bob hunkers paranoically back down in your chair, staring again at the TV.

You hear a woman's voice from the other side of your front door. "Knock knock."
action: Who's there
response: "Gorilla."
action: Gorilla who
response: "Girl of your dreams!"

A lady enters the living room and, narrowing her eyes, begins sizing up the situation.
action: You look at lady
response: That's no lady, that is your wife.

She walks over to Bob and consoles him as he describes what a meanee you have been.
action: Inventory
response: You have an electrical cord, yellow rubber gloves (being worn), a lamp shade, a scalpel-like knife, a blue sponge and a coat (being worn).

Bob continues telling your wife how rotten you were to him.
action: You examine the sponge
response: [Which sponge do you mean, your brother-in-law Bob or the blue sponge?]
action: You look at the blue sponge
response: There's nothing unusual about the blue sponge.

She throws a tantrum and storms out, to her mother's (that's next week's episode). Bob is falling apart emotionally as well, and goes and locks himself in the bathroom.

Bob stays in there several very tense minutes, without making a sound. Just when you think it's about time to call a professional, Bob's silence is suddenly broken by the words, "Knock knock."
action: Who's there
response: "Dwayne."
action: Dwayne who
response: "Dwayne the bathtub, I'm dwownin'!"

You hear a suppressed cackle from behind the bathroom door, which slowly opens to reveal the figure of your Bob, looking sheepish but with his hurt feelings mended. He shuts the door and slides back into your chair.
action: Who's there
response: Good question.
action: Bob
response: The crowd erupts with laughter as you seem to equate your brother-in-law Bob with a sponge.
action: You check what you're carrying
response: You have an electrical cord, yellow rubber gloves (being worn), a lamp shade, a scalpel-like knife, a blue sponge and a coat (being worn).
action: You cut the sponge
response: [What do you want to cut the sponge with?]
action: You put the coat on bob
response: You'll have to remove the coat first.
action: You take the coat
response: You're already wearing the coat.
action: You remove the coat
response: You remove the coat.
action: Poke Bob with knife
response: That'd be worse than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.
action: Kitchen
response: [dropping the cord first]

You walk across the stage.

The kitchen suffers from the neglect so often decried by the 1950's sitcom husband in the presence of his 1950's sitcom wife.
action: Inventory
response: You have yellow rubber gloves (being worn), a lamp shade, a scalpel-like knife, a blue sponge and a coat.
action: You open the fridge
response: Opened.
action: Living room
response: You walk across the stage.

Glaring bright lights bake down upon the stage.

The living room of your apartment is furnished in the drab period style of the 1950's situation comedy. Luckily, there's not much furniture on the set for you to bump into. However, one brass lamp stands here. A flimsy, union-constructed front door leads out of the apartment, another door leads to the bathroom. Both are closed. Your kitchen is at the other side of the stage.

An electrical cord is plugged into the wall, the other end having been torn from the lamp.

Your brother-in-law Bob is kicking back on your favorite chair, feeding his face and staring at the television. With his feet jutting out into the air, you notice a small hole at the tip of one of his much-travelled shoes.

You can see a hot-water bottle here.
action: You look at the bottle
response: The hot-water bottle is empty and deflated.
action: You give the bottle to Bob
response: Briskly, your brother-in-law Bob refuses your offer.
action: You put the bottle in the front of yourself
response: Why bother?
action: You remove the cushion
response: You've gotta be kidding.
action: Look around
response: Glaring bright lights bake down upon the stage.

The living room of your apartment is furnished in the drab period style of the 1950's situation comedy. Luckily, there's not much furniture on the set for you to bump into. However, one brass lamp stands here. A flimsy, union-constructed front door leads out of the apartment, another door leads to the bathroom. Both are closed. Your kitchen is at the other side of the stage.

An electrical cord is plugged into the wall, the other end having been torn from the lamp.

Your brother-in-law Bob is kicking back on your favorite chair, feeding his face and staring at the television. With his feet jutting out into the air, you notice a small hole at the tip of one of his much-travelled shoes.
action: You put the bottle in the front of yourself
response: It's not worth it. Believe me.
action: Kitchen
response: You walk across the stage.

The kitchen suffers from the neglect so often decried by the 1950's sitcom husband in the presence of his 1950's sitcom wife.
action: You put the bottle in the front of yourself
response: You're barking up the wrong tree.
action: You get the frontal lobotomy
response: You run the surgical-like instrument through the air an inch above your scalp. The crowd loves it. You've really got them eating out of your hand.

"Cut! Cut!" booms an off-stage, directoral voice. "It's a wrap." Drenched in the sweat of your comedic toil, you bask in the adoration of the cheerful Punster audience. Having milked this bit for the maximum number of cheap gags, namely 10, you have achieved the status of King of Comedy.

You now have the opportunity to do one of the following:

>Eat your Words
>Visit the Manor of Speaking
>Shake a Tower
>Meet the Mayor
action: You visit Manor
response: The sad truth here is that the Manor of Speaking once enjoyed the reputation as one of THE finest guest houses in the entire region around Punster. But queer indeed is the fate it has suffered. The various rooms of the house are actually possessed by the warped personalities of by-gone visitors. The experience of a present-day guest to each of the rooms is colored very strongly by the thoughts and indeed voice of each ghostly presence. Needless to say, vacancy rates have gone through the roof. Which leads us to the crucial problem with the Manor. Its attic, as you will notice, is radically out of joint, situated BELOW the level of the first floor. It has been theorized that if this misplacement could be dramatically rectified, the spirits who've worn out their welcome might flee in horror. This is our hope, may it be your quest.

You're standing in front of a large but oddly shaped manor house. From the outside, it looks as if its individual rooms have been haphazardly constructed and are out of proportion with each other. This has a slight disorienting effect.
action: Interior decorated
response: You go there...

The carpet! The carpet! Don't drag your feet on the carpet! It's a priceless hand-loomed Persian!

Whew! Okay, you're now standing on the bone-white Louis-XV-inspired tile.

This room, with its modern sensibility yet also palpable feeling for the ancien regime, is unique in its elegant reflection of a confident, personal sense of style. The lines are lean and classic, the color is rich and distinctive.

The Louis XIV chair is plump, tufted, aristocratic -- it's styled with equal splashes of rococo and baroque. The piece definitely has charisma. Sitting on the chair: a multihued textured pillow.

Against the far wall is an heroically proportioned, Mediterranean-crafted, intricately inlaid, Pre-Raphaelite limestone mantelpiece, circa 1838.

Adorning the mantel is a resplendently virgin-ivory hand-embroidered, filet-patterned lace tablecloth, circle 924 on your Reader Service Card.

A marble staircase of grand proportions leads down.
action: You examine the pillow
response: The pillow, complementary to the Louis XIV, is multihued and textured, displaying free-form squiggles, curlicues and brash brushstrokes with a primitive look to them.
action: You look at the tablecloth
response: It looks like every other lace tablecloth you've ever seen.
action: You look around
response: This room, with its modern sensibility yet also palpable feeling for the ancien regime, is unique in its elegant reflection of a confident, personal sense of style. The lines are lean and classic, the color is rich and distinctive.

The Louis XIV chair is plump, tufted, aristocratic -- it's styled with equal splashes of rococo and baroque. The piece definitely has charisma.

Against the far wall is an heroically proportioned, Mediterranean-crafted, intricately inlaid, Pre-Raphaelite limestone mantelpiece, circa 1838.

A marble staircase of grand proportions leads down.
action: You stand
response: You get out of the plump, tufted, aristocratic Louis XIV chair.
action: Doldrums
response: You go there...

Go ahead, come on in and bore me.

Walking into here is like driving across Nebraska. The place is neither bright nor dim, neither cool nor warm, neither this way nor that way. Even the air is unmoved by the experience of you entering the doldrums.

In the center of the room is a vast wasteland, which gradually blends into a wide patch of long pale-green grass that spills over into yawning chasms. Above the cliff hangs a shapeless cloud through which a line of sheep are jumping, one after the next, in slow motion.

All of the objects here have the aspect of salt-water taffy left out in the sun too long. Cobwebs enshroud a clock that has long since clocked out.

One wall appears to have been recently painted pea green. The weak smell of paint lingers in the air.
action: Sleep
response: You're not tired.

The paint on the wall continues to dry.
action: You watch the paint dry
response: The chasm yawns again. I've heard the word "watch" before.
action: Yawn
response: You've already arrived.

The grass here continues to grow.
action: You wait
response: Time passes...

The paint on the wall continues to dry.
action: You look at the paint
response: The chasm yawns again. I've heard the word "paint" before.
action: You look
response: Go ahead, come on in and bore me.

Walking into here is like driving across Nebraska. The place is neither bright nor dim, neither cool nor warm, neither this way nor that way. Even the air is unmoved by the experience of you entering the doldrums.

In the center of the room is a vast wasteland, which gradually blends into a wide patch of long pale-green grass that spills over into yawning chasms. Above the cliff hangs a shapeless cloud through which a line of sheep are jumping, one after the next, in slow motion.

All of the objects here have the aspect of salt-water taffy left out in the sun too long. Cobwebs enshroud a clock that has long since clocked out.

One wall appears to have been recently painted pea green. The weak smell of paint lingers in the air.

The grass here continues to grow.
action: You pick up all
response: clock: Taken.
winding key: You can't -- the winding key is an integral part of the clock.
But the key can still be used.
paint: Never in a thousand years.
yawning chasms: Nice try.
grass: What a concept.
cloud: You've gotta be kidding.
vast wasteland: Never in a thousand years.

The paint on the wall continues to dry.
action: Wind key
response: You wind the clock until the winding key stops.

The clock continues sounding out a steady "Tick... tick... tick." If you couldn't see it was the clock making the noise, it would sound rather ominous.

The grass here continues to grow.
action: Cut grass
response: [What do you want to cut the grass with?]
action: You jump in the chasm
response: The chasm yawns again. I've heard the word "in" before.
action: Kremlin
response: You go there...

"Tick... tick." I hear bomb ticking! Counter-Revolutionary spy! Hold on to our sable hats. Oh, we can see is only inferior Capitalist clock.

This room is painted entirely in bold, revolutionary red -- walls, floor, and ceiling -- surrounding you symbolically with the inescapability of the coming of the revolution.

Presiding over the room, hanging from a high red wall, the portrait of the Grandfather of the Revolution, Karl Marx, looks down with furrowed brow upon your capitalist hide.

The clock continues sounding out a steady "Tick... tick... tick."
action: You examine Marx
response: It looks like every other portrait of Karl Marx you've ever seen.

The clock keeps ticking off the time.
action: You look behind the portrait
response: You can't reach the portrait of Karl Marx.

The clock keeps ticking off the time.
action: You buy the portrait
response: That's not for sale.

The clock continues sounding out a steady "Tick... tick... tick."
action: Pharmacy
response: You go there...

Aaah... Choo! Oh, of course, in you come tracking your germs.

Sniff... sniff.

You're standing upon a rubberized non-slip bathroom mat. Handrails, installed here as an extra precaution, run along the walls.

You look a little peaked to yourself, reflected in the mirror of the medicine cabinet.

A cardboard box, about one-foot square and empty of its value pack of medicines, sits on the floor.

The clock keeps ticking off the time.
action: Examine box
response: Inside the cardboard box you see nothing.

The clock keeps ticking off the time.
action: You get the box
response: Taken.

The clock keeps ticking off the time.
action: You stand on the box
response: You're barking up the wrong tree.

The clock keeps ticking off the time.
action: You get the box
response: You already have the cardboard box.

The clock keeps ticking off the time.
action: Look around
response: Aaah... Choo! Oh, of course, in you come tracking your germs.

Sniff... sniff.

You're standing upon a rubberized non-slip bathroom mat. Handrails, installed here as an extra precaution, run along the walls.

You look a little peaked to yourself, reflected in the mirror of the medicine cabinet.

The clock gives off its last "tick" and stops.
action: You open the cabinet
response: The cabinet creaks on its hinges, some would say from overuse.

The cabinet is crowded to pharmaceutical proportions with a panoply of pills, lozenges and elixirs -- hey, you can't be too careful, with what's going around these days -- including some remedies for afflictions that, yes, haven't even afflicted anyone yet. But it's better to be safe than sorry.
action: You eat the pills
response: That's pretty nutty.
action: Attic
response: You walk to the Interior Decorated, and from there walk down the stairs...

The attic is where the oxymoron is rumored to have been locked up recently for years and years. There doesn't seem to be even a shred of hard evidence, though, for such a secret rumor. A funny thing though -- the place is upside-down: You're standing on the ceiling with the floor above as the roof over your head.

A sturdy, rickety stairway leads up from here.
action: You examine the ceiling
response: It looks like every other ceiling you've ever seen.
action: Down
response: But the stairs lead up.
action: Inventory
response: You have a cardboard box, a clock, a lace tablecloth and a multihued textured pillow.
It seems that the clock contains a winding key.
action: Beginning
response: You are surrounded by a swirling, blinding cloud. You feel your limbs going relaxed and your eyelids are buffeted with sand from the cloud.

You now have the opportunity to do one of the following:

>Eat your Words
>Visit the Manor of Speaking
>Shake a Tower
>Meet the Mayor
action: You visit Manor
response: The sad truth here is that the Manor of Speaking once enjoyed the reputation as one of THE finest guest houses in the entire region around Punster. But queer indeed is the fate it has suffered. The various rooms of the house are actually possessed by the warped personalities of by-gone visitors. The experience of a present-day guest to each of the rooms is colored very strongly by the thoughts and indeed voice of each ghostly presence. Needless to say, vacancy rates have gone through the roof. Which leads us to the crucial problem with the Manor. Its attic, as you will notice, is radically out of joint, situated BELOW the level of the first floor. It has been theorized that if this misplacement could be dramatically rectified, the spirits who've worn out their welcome might flee in horror. This is our hope, may it be your quest.

The attic is where the oxymoron is rumored to have been locked up recently for years and years. There doesn't seem to be even a shred of hard evidence, though, for such a secret rumor. A funny thing though -- the place is upside-down: You're standing on the ceiling with the floor above as the roof over your head.

A sturdy, rickety stairway leads up from here.

You can see a multihued textured pillow, a lace tablecloth and a cardboard box here.
It seems that the cardboard box contains a clock.
It seems that the clock contains a winding key.
action: You get all
response: multihued textured pillow: Taken.
lace tablecloth: Taken.
cardboard box: Taken.
action: Wind key
response: You wind the clock until the winding key stops.

The clock continues sounding out a steady "Tick... tick... tick."
action: Close box
response: Okay, the cardboard box is now closed.

The clock keeps ticking off the time.
action: Kremlin
response: You walk up the stairs to the Interior Decorated and continue walking...

"Tick... tick." I hear bomb ticking! Counter-Revolutionary spy! Hold on to our sable hats. My sturdy walls tremble with xenophobia of Western hegemony into Mother Country. Poor Marx is jolted and falls indignantly to the floor, revealing some kind of safe on the red wall where he had hung.

This room is painted entirely in bold, revolutionary red -- walls, floor, and ceiling -- surrounding you symbolically with the inescapability of the coming of the revolution.

There's a safe built into the wall where the picture once hung.

You can see a portrait of Karl Marx here.

The clock keeps ticking off the time.
action: You examine safe
response: In keeping with the spirit of international brotherhood and with the lofty theme of the Lennon's song "Imagine," the safe is kept closed only by a very simple universal lock, which can be opened by any kind of key.

The clock continues sounding out a steady "Tick... tick... tick."
action: You examine pillow
response: The pillow, complementary to the Louis XIV, is multihued and textured, displaying free-form squiggles, curlicues and brash brushstrokes with a primitive look to them.

The clock continues sounding out a steady "Tick... tick... tick."
action: You open pillow
response: You can't open a multihued textured pillow!

The clock continues sounding out a steady "Tick... tick... tick."
action: You get the portrait
response: The hero has suffered indignity enough. Never he to be taken away as capitalist booty!

The clock keeps ticking off the time.
action: You open the box
response: Opening the cardboard box reveals a clock.
It seems that the clock contains a winding key.

The clock continues sounding out a steady "Tick... tick... tick."
action: You get the key
response: You can't -- the winding key is an integral part of the clock.
But the key can still be used.

The clock continues sounding out a steady "Tick... tick... tick."
action: You unlock safe with the key
response: You can't reach the safe.

The clock keeps ticking off the time.
action: Interior
response: You go there...

This room, with its modern sensibility yet also palpable feeling for the ancien regime, is unique in its elegant reflection of a confident, personal sense of style. The lines are lean and classic, the color is rich and distinctive.

The Louis XIV chair is plump, tufted, aristocratic -- it's styled with equal splashes of rococo and baroque. The piece definitely has charisma.

Against the far wall is an heroically proportioned, Mediterranean-crafted, intricately inlaid, Pre-Raphaelite limestone mantelpiece, circa 1838.

A marble staircase of grand proportions leads down.

The clock gives off its last "tick" and stops.
action: You get the chair
response: This is not a rummage sale. No! I could never think of parting with such a priceless antique.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: You have a cardboard box, a lace tablecloth and a multihued textured pillow.
It seems that the cardboard box contains a clock.
It seems that the clock contains a winding key.
action: Pharmacy
response: You go there...

Aaah... Choo! Oh, of course, in you come tracking your germs.

Sniff... sniff.

You're standing upon a rubberized non-slip bathroom mat. Handrails, installed here as an extra precaution, run along the walls.

The open medicine cabinet is cram packed full of a variety of medicines.

It seems that the medicine cabinet contains an old bottle.
action: You get the bottle
response: You can go ahead and have that old thing anyway. It was here before I moved in.
action: You examine bottle
response: It's a small and delicately sculpted glass bottle, looking to be hundreds of years old. The bottle is empty and has no lid.
action: Interior
response: You go there...

Oh, my goodness, that's a rare antique bottle you're holding. Very impressive indeed.

This room, with its modern sensibility yet also palpable feeling for the ancien regime, is unique in its elegant reflection of a confident, personal sense of style. The lines are lean and classic, the color is rich and distinctive.

The Louis XIV chair is plump, tufted, aristocratic -- it's styled with equal splashes of rococo and baroque. The piece definitely has charisma.

Against the far wall is an heroically proportioned, Mediterranean-crafted, intricately inlaid, Pre-Raphaelite limestone mantelpiece, circa 1838.

A marble staircase of grand proportions leads down.
action: You put the bottle on the mantel
response: Umm... Do you really think it makes the right statement there?
action: Yes
response: Mmmmm. You know I really think you might be right. Yes, yes, the cherished memento look.

You carefully place the antique bottle upon the mantel.

Yes, heavens yes, it really SAYS something there. Oh, such a prized antique, what could I EVER give you in return?
action: You get the chair
response: GIVE the plump, tufted, aristocratic Louis XIV chair to you -- never! Well, yes, you may borrow it. I don't even want to KNOW what you're going to use it for.

It's too heavy, considering your current load.
action: You get the chair
response: It's too heavy, considering your current load.
action: Inventory
response: You have a lace tablecloth and a multihued textured pillow.
action: You drop all
response: lace tablecloth: Dropped.
multihued textured pillow: Dropped.
action: You get the chair
response: Go ahead, but I can't bear to look. [With the proper reverence, you make a courtly bow in front of the priceless antique as you pick it up.]
action: Kremlin
response: You go there...

"Fellow traveller, welcome."

This room is painted entirely in bold, revolutionary red -- walls, floor, and ceiling -- surrounding you symbolically with the inescapability of the coming of the revolution.

There's a safe built into the wall where the picture once hung.

You can see a portrait of Karl Marx here.
action: Interior
response: You go there...

This room, with its modern sensibility yet also palpable feeling for the ancien regime, is unique in its elegant reflection of a confident, personal sense of style. The lines are lean and classic, the color is rich and distinctive.

Against the far wall is an heroically proportioned, Mediterranean-crafted, intricately inlaid, Pre-Raphaelite limestone mantelpiece, circa 1838. Resting on the mantel: an old bottle.

A marble staircase of grand proportions leads down.

You can see a multihued textured pillow, a lace tablecloth and a cardboard box here.
It seems that the cardboard box contains a clock.
It seems that the clock contains a winding key.
action: You get all
response: multihued textured pillow: Taken.
lace tablecloth: Taken.
cardboard box: Taken.
old bottle: Hands off, Indian giver! That antique bottle is mine now.
action: Kremlin
response: You go there...

"Fellow traveller, welcome."

This room is painted entirely in bold, revolutionary red -- walls, floor, and ceiling -- surrounding you symbolically with the inescapability of the coming of the revolution.

There's a safe built into the wall where the picture once hung.

You can see a plump, tufted, aristocratic Louis XIV chair and a portrait of Karl Marx here.
action: You unlock safe with the key
response: By inserting the clock key into the safe and turning, the safe is unlocked.
action: You open safe
response: Opening the safe reveals a revolution.
action: You revolve the attic
response: You get that long, drawn-out sudden feeling of movement in the pit of your stomach as the attic begins tilting straight up to one side, and it continues tilting until you're in a figurative sense literally climbing the walls and fall...

"CRUNCH!" Your shoulders slam softly against the hardwood floor. Wobbly but with steadiness, you regain your feet. Wait! You can hear the screeching voices of disembodied spirits converge in a fright and then around the entrance to the manor, and then grow faint in the distance.

Congratulations. Having rid the manor of its unwanted, if spirited, visitors you thereby, in the eyes of the Citizens' Action Committee, earn the title of Honored Guest.

You now have the opportunity to do one of the following:

>Eat your Words
>Shake a Tower
>Meet the Mayor
action: You revolve Manor
response: There's no time to dawdle. You must do one of the following:

>Eat your Words
>Shake a Tower
>Meet the Mayor
action: Order
response: [What do you want to order?]
action: You examine the sign
response: Next to the stairway, glowing blue neon letters read "Comeuppance."
action: You get the sign
response: The waitress, though busy scurrying around and up and down, would be able to observe such a flagrant violation upon the premises.
action: You examine waitress
response: She is a hatchet-faced young woman, with a spiked purple mohawk and a pink woolen headband worn low on her forehead. A stray wood chip, apparently having been picked up from the kitchen, sits upon her shoulder, which is otherwise sprinkled amply with dandruff, or dander.

She eyes you suspiciously for a moment, as if you've done wrong.
action: You take the chip off the shoulder
response: Why bother?
action: You knock the chip off her shoulder
response: "Come on, knock it off!" the waitress says defiantly, and the chip goes flying off into the air. She ducks out for a few seconds and returns to hurriedly set your table with something strange and crude for an eating instrument, a hatchet.
action: Raise dander
response: The waitress shrugs her shoulders in contempt of your pestering, and sure enough her dander is raised. Becoming agitated at your behavior, she disappears for a few moments, and comes back to serve you some pie by setting it on the table.

The waitress continues on, calculating her tips for the day.
action: You eat the humble pie
response: As gingerly as possible, nibbling around the edges and taking smallish guilty bites out of the pie, and chewing slowly and thoughtfully with wide eyes to prolong the expression of your humility, you gradually consume the pie until it is all gone.
action: You bury it
response: Into whom do you want to bury the hatchet?
action: Describe the surroundings
response: You are on the first floor of The Teapot Cafe, standing next to your table under the shadowy umbrage of the second floor balcony, which can be reached by a stairway that is marked with a blue neon sign.

Your table is only partially covered by a skimpy little tablecloth.

A red velvet curtain appears to mark the entrance to the kitchen.

A waitress here is trying to look busy.
action: You open the curtain
response: As you head toward the kitchen, the waitress heads you off at the pass. You don't have nearly enough gall to storm into the kitchen, but you're getting there.
action: Bury hatchet in waitress
response: The waitress firmly grips your forearm in defense of her mohawk. "Come on now, enough of this hair-splitting, I'll get to you, just as soon as I can."
action: You look at the waitress
response: She is a hatchet-faced young woman, with a spiked purple mohawk and a pink woolen headband worn low on her forehead. You've knocked the chip off her shoulder. You've done your darndest to raise her dander.

She eyes you suspiciously for a moment, as if you've done wrong.
action: You pull the wool over her eyes
response: The headband slips lower upon the waitress's forehead, narrowing her vision to table-level and below.
The waitress steps away from you, performing a quick set of high-impact aerobics.
action: You get the sign
response: Having pulled the wool over the waitress's eyes, you snatch the neon sign, which glows warm in your hands.
action: You give her the Comeuppance
response: [to the waitress]
The fuzzily glowing neon goes well with her dime-store face. Her eyes pick up the glow, and she storms away. She charges back into the kitchen, and brings to your table some strange meat that she briefly describes as being "collective of lions." Strange indeed.
action: You give the pride to the waitress
response: Briskly, the waitress refuses your offer.
action: Swallow pride
response: It's hard to swallow, but with determination and several long, Adam's apple-jacking gulps, you manage to do it.
action: You enter the kitchen
response: As you head toward the kitchen, the waitress heads you off at the pass. But you're on the right track.
action: Look around
response: You are on the first floor of The Teapot Cafe, standing next to your table under the shadowy umbrage of the second floor balcony, which can be reached by a stairway.

Your table is only partially covered by a skimpy little tablecloth.

A red velvet curtain appears to mark the entrance to the kitchen.

A waitress here is trying to look busy.
action: Up
response: This is the second floor of The Teapot Cafe. You're standing below a low-slung ceiling, upon a carpet, next to an official-looking sign on the wall. Across from you, built into a stone wall, lies a large open-air hearth which is filled with smoldering coals.

Some food has been left here, no doubt by some impatient patrons of the cafe.

Leaning against the stone wall is a rake.

A decorative olive tree stands in the shadowy corner.

The waitress stalks after you.
action: You examine rake
response: It looks like every other rake you've ever seen.
action: You get the rake
response: You already have the rake.
action: You rake the waitress over coals
response: Not a bad idea, since the waitress looked so much in need of a rake over. Of course, this only ends up in fanning the flames, and scorched
action: You look at the tree
response: by your harshness, she stalks off.
The waitress resumes her duties, which seem to include clearing plates with her bristly hair.

[I don't know the word "ashes."]

There's one branch loose.
action: You look around
response: This is the second floor of The Teapot Cafe. You're standing below a low-slung ceiling, upon a carpet, next to an official-looking sign on the wall. Across from you, built into a stone wall, lies a large open-air hearth which is filled with smoldering coals.

Some food has been left here, no doubt by some impatient patrons of the cafe.

A waitress here is trying to look busy.

A decorative olive tree stands in the shadowy corner.
action: You get the branch
response: "Snap!" The branch comes off in your hands.
action: You offer olive branch
response: [to the waitress]
She accepts the peace offering, leaves, then comes back.
action: You look at the food
response: They're just desserts.
action: You get the just desserts
response: You get your just desserts.
action: You give the just desserts
response: [to the waitress]
At first, the waitress perks up, no doubt expecting a large tip. But when she gets the meanness of your offering, her face sours. She leaves, comes back and closes your hand gently around a fortune cookie along with a salt shaker.

The waitress stomps away in a huff and begins taking a standing coffee break.
action: Shake shaker
response: Just one grain of salt spills out of the shaker onto the floor.
action: You open the cookie
response: Crumbs from the cookie drift away upon a pungent smelling wind from the kitchen. That's the way the cookie crumbles. However, you are left with a piece of advice.
action: You take the advice with a the grain of the salt
response: You read the advice in a loud voice with much sarcasm, taking it so lightly that the slip of paper almosts drifts up into the air. The waitress seems snubbed that you don't seem to be taking the advice to heart. She flies the coop for a minute and comes back with a charred, dark-feathered bird which she puts in your arms.
action: You look at the crow
response: It looks like every other crow you've ever seen.
action: You eat the crow
response: You take a squeamish bite of it and chew slowly, finding the consistency to be NITTY-GRITTY.
action: You get down to ththe nitty-gritty
response: You do your best... but the attempt falls on the waitress's deaf ears. She makes a brief exit, and a briefer entrance to drop a white cloth napkin into your arms.
action: Look around
response: There's nothing eye-catching about the white cloth napkin.



This is the second floor of The Teapot Cafe. You're standing below a low-slung ceiling, upon a carpet, next to an official-looking sign on the wall. Across from you, built into a stone wall, lies a large open-air hearth which is filled with smoldering coals.

A waitress here is trying to look busy.

A decorative olive tree stands in the shadowy corner.

You can see a grain of salt here.
action: You examine the sign
response: "It is unlawful for this room to be occupied by more than 350 angry persons.
-- Section 204D, paragraph 7-6, The Riot Act"
action: You read the waitress the Riot Act
response: "How sweet," thinks the waitress. "I haven't been read to since I was a child, before going to sleep." But when she suddenly realizes it's bedtime for Bonzo, her face reddens. She exits, then comes back and slips a rump roast to you.

The waitress continues on, munching on some pilfered salad makings.
action: You call waitress on the carpet
response: Bristling at your presumption of authority, the waitress stops in front of you for one brief moment. Then before you can open your mouth, she turns and leaves. She pretends not to be bothered, but you observe that she's reaching her boiling point, being driven into a tizzy as she walks in circles. Her dander is jumping up from her shoulders as she storms away, and the distant sound of a teapot whistling can be heard.
action: You look at the roast
response: It's primarily in two parts, one half charred, the other cheek merely well-done.
action: You turn other cheek
response: You mull over the food in front of you, with many thoughts. As you turn the other cheek, however noble your intention, the waitress still ignores you.
action: Go downward
response: You are on the first floor of The Teapot Cafe, standing next to your table under the shadowy umbrage of the second floor balcony, which can be reached by a stairway.

Your table is only partially covered by a skimpy little tablecloth.

A red velvet curtain appears to mark the entrance to the kitchen.

The waitress stalks after you.
action: You enter kitchen
response: You're drawn toward the kitchen amid the fast-paced, dramatic sounds of a big-band era orchestra -- matador music. As you make your entrance, the red velvet curtain, now appearing like a cape, comes off into your hands.

The dominating feature of the kitchen is the cook, who is dwarfish in dimension but gigantic in size.

You can immediately see there's a lot of bad blood between you and him.

But he's getting all worked up over the meal he's preparing and doesn't take notice of you. He is utterly beside himself, which takes up most of the floor space of the kitchen. The ruffled fur is flying, plumes of sifted flour are exploding, the briny sweat is raining through the steamy air, as the cook wreaks havoc while whipping something together.

The kitchen is equipped with, among other crude devices, a grindstone.
action: You put the nose to the grindstone
response: Okay. Fine. You resolve to work harder.
action: Grind axe
response: After all you've been through, you believe you have a legitimate axe to grind, and you do so, with relish. The blade of the axe twinkles with razor sharpness.
action: Look around
response: The dominating feature of the kitchen is the cook, who is dwarfish in dimension but gigantic in size.

You can immediately see there's a lot of bad blood between you and him.

But he's getting all worked up over the meal he's preparing and doesn't take notice of you. He is utterly beside himself, which takes up most of the floor space of the kitchen. The ruffled fur is flying, plumes of sifted flour are exploding, the briny sweat is raining through the steamy air, as the cook wreaks havoc while whipping something together.

The kitchen is equipped with, among other crude devices, a grindstone.
action: You look at the blood
response: It looks like every other bad blood you've ever seen.
action: You wipe up bad blood
response: Down on your hands and knees, you remove the bad blood by using the cape, which turns a deeper shade of red.

You shuffle toward him for a closer view, and for a moment you're standing toe to toe, but you don't see eye to eye. His nose is out of joint, which explains why he's cutting it off to spite his face. (He flings it into his concoction.) You can hear the volcanic roar of bitter bile in his throat, which is making him hot under the collar, and causing smoke to pour out of his ears.

The cook glares for moment at his recipe card, and apparently you're not on it, because he turns back in front of a large bowl and resumes madly throwing ingredients together.
action: You look at the bowl
response: The slimy admixture of entrails, small winged insects and the occasional fleshy ear, churns thickly within the pot...

Just now, two of the cook's pet peeves wander up to him, and add to the confusion by begging loudly for scraps -- the goat bleating, and the goose honking.

The cook comes across a labeled can, picks it up, and continues scouring the kitchen for the right ingredients.
action: You examine Card
response: Though the card is splattered with food, you can see the name of the concoction is "Brew-hah-hah."
action: You get his goat
response: The cook's goat, its hooves clanking awkwardly on the kitchen floor, is nevertheless gotten. The cook, being steamed up, breaks your grip on the goat, which bleats a hasty retreat.
action: You cook his goose
response: A burst of grease and flames spit up from the stunned bird, and the cook himself emotionally melts as his goose is cooked. (So it's safer to cook the goose than to goose the cook.)
action: Goose cook
response: No. Just flatly no.
action: You read the recipe card
response: [I don't know the word "heat."]

Though the card is splattered with food, you can see the name of the concoction is "Brew-hah-hah."
action: Look around
response: The dominating feature of the kitchen is the cook, who is dwarfish in dimension but gigantic in size.

But he's getting all worked up over the meal he's preparing and doesn't take notice of you. He is utterly beside himself, which takes up most of the floor space of the kitchen. The ruffled fur is flying, plumes of sifted flour are exploding, the briny sweat is raining through the steamy air, as the cook wreaks havoc while whipping something together.

The kitchen is equipped with, among other crude devices, a grindstone.
action: You examine the flour
response: It looks like every other god-awful mess you've ever seen.
action: You check what you're carrying
response: You're cross-eyed with anger, which means a jaundiced eye points this way, and an evil eye points that way. You can trace a strong burning sensation to the area of your spleen.

You have a red velvet curtain, a rump roast, a grain of salt, a white cloth napkin, nitty-gritty crow, advice, a salt shaker, a rake and a hatchet.
action: Vent spleen
response: [on the cook]
The pun is mightier than the sword.
action: Grind axe
response: You already have.
action: You go outside
response: You are on the first floor of The Teapot Cafe, standing next to your table under the shadowy umbrage of the second floor balcony, which can be reached by a stairway.

Your table is only partially covered by a skimpy little tablecloth.

A waitress here is trying to look busy.
action: You give the waitress the the evil eye
response: You give her the evil eye, which is not as painful as you might have expected, and in fact brings you a good deal of satisfaction. As for the waitress, she seems ruffled, but continues about her business.
The waitress steps away from you, fingering her neck nervously.
action: Vent spleen on waitress
response: On a gut feeling, you let it all hang out, which brings you a general feeling of well-being. It seems to have struck a nerve in the waitress too, since she takes a rare glance in your direction. "Well, if you've really reached the boiling point," shouts the waitress, "why don't you take it up with the cook!"
action: You turn a the jaundiced eye on the waitress
response: Imposterous!
action: About yourself
response: You're bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: You're cross-eyed with anger, which means a jaundiced eye points this way, and an evil eye points that way. But you feel some justification in having vented your spleen. You have a red velvet curtain, a rump roast, a grain of salt, a white cloth napkin, nitty-gritty crow, advice, a salt shaker, a rake and a hatchet.
action: You look at waitress with the jaundiced eye
response: Under your nasty gaze, the waitress seems momentarily self-conscious, then hurriedly continues on with her work.
The waitress resumes her duties, which seem to include calculating her tips for the day.
action: Kitchen
response: The dominating feature of the kitchen is the cook, who is dwarfish in dimension but gigantic in size.

But he's getting all worked up over the meal he's preparing and doesn't take notice of you. He is utterly beside himself, which takes up most of the floor space of the kitchen. The ruffled fur is flying, plumes of sifted flour are exploding, the briny sweat is raining through the steamy air, as the cook wreaks havoc while whipping something together.

The kitchen is equipped with, among other crude devices, a grindstone.
action: You give the advice to the man
response: Briskly, the cook refuses your offer.
action: You look at the cook
response: The cook appears to be a big man with a short fuse. His hulking figure is covered with prickly five-and-ten o'clock shadows of hair stubble. Blubbery hammocks of basting bicep hang from each upper arm, and swing heavily through the air, following the cook's mammoth frenzy of food preparation.
It seems that the cook has nothing.
action: You examine the flour
response: It looks like every other god-awful mess you've ever seen.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: You're cross-eyed with anger, which means a jaundiced eye points this way, and an evil eye points that way. But you feel some justification in having vented your spleen. You have a red velvet curtain, a rump roast, a grain of salt, a white cloth napkin, nitty-gritty crow, advice, a salt shaker, a rake and a hatchet.
action: Roast cook
response: Too many cooks spoil the broth.
action: Look around
response: The dominating feature of the kitchen is the cook, who is dwarfish in dimension but gigantic in size.

But he's getting all worked up over the meal he's preparing and doesn't take notice of you. He is utterly beside himself, which takes up most of the floor space of the kitchen. The ruffled fur is flying, plumes of sifted flour are exploding, the briny sweat is raining through the steamy air, as the cook wreaks havoc while whipping something together.

The kitchen is equipped with, among other crude devices, a grindstone.
action: Wave curtain
response: Bravo! Ole! Bravo! You wave the cape, and now you've got the cook seeing red.
action: You examine the meal
response: The slimy admixture of entrails, small winged insects and the occasional fleshy ear, churns thickly within the pot...
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: You're cross-eyed with anger, which means a jaundiced eye points this way, and an evil eye points that way. But you feel some justification in having vented your spleen. You have a red velvet curtain, a rump roast, a grain of salt, a white cloth napkin, nitty-gritty crow, advice, a salt shaker, a rake and a hatchet.
action: You put the roast in the pot
response: The cook gingerly slaps the back of your hand.
action: You take a grain of salt
response: You already have the grain of salt.
action: You look at the cook
response: The cook appears to be a big man with a short fuse. His hulking figure is covered with prickly five-and-ten o'clock shadows of hair stubble. Blubbery hammocks of basting bicep hang from each upper arm, and swing heavily through the air, following the cook's mammoth frenzy of food preparation.
It seems that the cook has nothing.
action: You shave the the cook
response: You are on the first floor of The Teapot Cafe, standing next to your table under the shadowy umbrage of the second floor balcony, which can be reached by a stairway.

Your table is only partially covered by a skimpy little tablecloth.

A waitress here is trying to look busy.

[I don't know the word "shave."]
action: You look at your surroundings
response: You are on the first floor of The Teapot Cafe, standing next to your table under the shadowy umbrage of the second floor balcony, which can be reached by a stairway.

A waitress here is trying to look busy.
action: You give the short shrift to waitress
response: That's one way to turn the tables on the waitress. She accepts the short shrift gruffly and begins polishing glasses with it.
The waitress stomps away in a huff and begins performing a quick set of high-impact aerobics.
action: You take umbrage
response: You do so, and the Teapot cafe seems a little less dim, which unfortunately can't be said of its employees, not excluding the waitress.
The waitress continues on, clearing plates with her bristly hair.
action: You look at the table
response: You notice a slight swivel to it. On your table you see nothing.
action: You turn the the table
response: Whom do you want to turn the tables on?
action: Waitress
response: The waitress steps quickly toward you, pressing her thighs against the table's opposite edge and staring coldly into your eyes.

Her eyelashes are spidery with thick mascara, and the volume of white powder below each brow could open a ski season. Her cheeks are brazen with a raw swath of rouge, and the heavy lip blush is indeed embarrassing.

You muster a grimace of your own, and you both follow the table around as it makes one complete revolution and notches to a stop. You plop down on the chair, sweat draining from your temples.
The waitress steps away from you, taking a standing coffee break.
action: Describe the surroundings
response: First floor, on the chair

You are on the first floor of The Teapot Cafe, sitting at your table under the shadowy umbrage of the second floor balcony, which can be reached by a stairway.

A waitress here is trying to look busy.
action: You feed crow to the waitress
response: Briskly, the waitress refuses your offer.
action: You stand
response: You get out of your chair.
action: Up
response: This is the second floor of The Teapot Cafe. You're standing below a low-slung ceiling, upon a carpet, next to an official-looking sign on the wall. Across from you, built into a stone wall, lies a large open-air hearth which is filled with smoldering coals.

A decorative olive tree stands in the shadowy corner.

The waitress stalks after you.
action: You stand
response: You're already standing.
action: You examine the hearth
response: The coals in the hearth glow red and white hot.
action: You go downwards
response: You are on the first floor of The Teapot Cafe, standing next to your table under the shadowy umbrage of the second floor balcony, which can be reached by a stairway.

The waitress stomps after you.
action: You eat the crow
response: You find nitty-gritty crow to be inedible.
action: You get the recipe card
response: He rips it away from you.
action: You take the spleen
response: Never in a thousand years.
action: Clean Card
response: It's not worth it. Believe me.
action: You ask the cook about the meal
response: The big guy is speechless.
action: You look at the cook
response: The cook appears to be a big man with a short fuse. His hulking figure is covered with prickly five-and-ten o'clock shadows of hair stubble. Blubbery hammocks of basting bicep hang from each upper arm, and swing heavily through the air, following the cook's mammoth frenzy of food preparation.
It seems that the cook has nothing.
action: You cut the hair
response: [What do you want to cut the hair with?]
action: Hatchet
response: Why bother?
action: Hint
response: [Warning: It is recognized that the temptation for help may at times be so exceedingly strong that you might fetch hints prematurely. Therefore, you may at any time during the story type HINTS OFF, and this will disallow the seeking out of help for the present session of the story. If you still want a hint now, indicate HINT.]
action: Hint
response: N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

> Eyes Have It        Olive Tree
Micky Spleen        The Coals
Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts
action: Go north
response: N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

> Micky Spleen        The Coals
Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts
action: Go north
response: N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

> Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts

N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Tablecloth          Napkin
> Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts

N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
> The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts

N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
> Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts

N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
> Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts

N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
> Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts

N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
> A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts

N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
> Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts

N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
> Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts

N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
> Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts

N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
> Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts

N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
> A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts

N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
> Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts

N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
> Riot Act
Desserts

N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
> Desserts

N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Eyes Have It      > Olive Tree
Micky Spleen        The Coals
Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts
action: You go to the north
response: N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Micky Spleen      > The Coals
Tablecloth          Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts
action: You go north
response: N = nextP = previous
RETURN = See hintQ = Resume story

Tablecloth        > Napkin
Your Table          Ceiling
The Shadows         The Carpet
Lions' Share        Blood Caper
Pie                 Pet Peeves
Crow                Can Can
A Turkey            Frying Pan
Rump Roast          Own Devices
Headband            Ox-idental
Dander
Woodchip
A Fortune
Neon Sign
Riot Act
Desserts
action: You hit the Ceiling
response: The full brunt of your impact is taken by your head and shoulders, and the entire teapot rattles loudly as you raise the roof.
The waitress resumes her duties, which seem to include munching on some pilfered salad makings.
action: Go downwards
response: You are on the first floor of The Teapot Cafe, standing next to your table under the shadowy umbrage of the second floor balcony, which can be reached by a stairway.

The waitress trails after you.
action: Examine can
response: The label reads "Laughing stock."
action: You make the laughing stock out of the cook
response: You get a lot of canned laughter coming from rows of cans, and the cook seems to take offense.

Now you've really gotten him steamed up. He snatches you around the waist, laughs heartily into your face with marinated breath, and plops you down into the center of a large, family-size frying pan.

The cook begins gathering his own devices, as flames lick up around the rim of the frying pan.
action: You enter
response: Look around you.

Your feet are beginning to feel the heat.
action: You enter the fire
response: You avoid the fate of being merely a flash in the pan by leaping from the skillet, heedless of the heat outside it. As harmlessly as one's hand passing quickly over a lighted candle, your entire body falls through the large licking blue flame. Landing on the jet, you put out the fire, and fall to the floor. The cook angrily flings the pan into oblivion.

The cook backs you up into a corner, and begins sharpening his own devices, bent on destroying you.
action: You leave the cook to the own devices
response: A wise move, it would seem, since the cook is not adept in the application of technology to the preparation of food. Truth will tell, he's already done away with a cousin in a Cuisinart, lost a friend in a blender, and microwaved a surfer.

He appears to hurt himself by his own devices, and you get out of the corner only to run into a big ox that happens to be wandering through the kitchen!
action: Inventory
response: You're cross-eyed with anger, which means a jaundiced eye points this way, and an evil eye points that way. But you feel some justification in having vented your spleen. You're empty-handed.
action: Look around
response: The dominating feature of the kitchen is the cook, who is dwarfish in dimension but gigantic in size.

But he's getting all worked up over the meal he's preparing and doesn't take notice of you. He is utterly beside himself, which takes up most of the floor space of the kitchen. The ruffled fur is flying, plumes of sifted flour are exploding, the briny sweat is raining through the steamy air, as the cook wreaks havoc while whipping something together.

The kitchen is equipped with, among other crude devices, a grindstone.

You can see an ox, a hatchet, a rake, a salt shaker, advice, nitty-gritty crow, a white cloth napkin, a grain of salt, a rump roast and a red velvet curtain here.
action: Bury hatchet in Ox
response: Okay, you bury the hatchet in the animal and his ox is gored, leaving quite a mess, but also a bone of contention. Immediately, both you and the cook see an end to it, and each of you take a slimy end of the bone of contention. With your eyes closed, you make a wish, as does the burly cook.

"Snap!" The bone breaks jaggedly, and the cook is left with the short end of the stick.

He drops to the floor, mopping up the entrails of the ox and apologizing profusely and promising never again to wield another kitchen utensil as long as he lives.

Congratulations are in order. You're ranked as...
Satisfied Customer.

You now have the opportunity to do one of the following:

>Shake a Tower
>Meet the Mayor
action: You meet Mayor
response: Okay, you have proved to the Committee wide knowledge of the nature of our problems in Punster. You have now within your grasp the decree that would legislate against, ban from the town, outlaw forever, all the wordplayful shenanigans that have so tortured us. May our Mayor, the honorable Jimmy "Fat Baby" Kazooli, act in the best interest of his citizenry. You are sent...

You're in the public square. Facing one edge of the square stands an impressive looking neo-colonial town house, which is decoratively fronted by a row of laurel bushes.

In the middle of the public square stands a thick, ten feet tall stump of a tree. Attached to the stump is a sheet of paper and next to the paper hangs the horn of the town crier.
action: You examine paper
response: There is a list of "Ten Laws of the Land." But the bottom of the sheet is torn off, leaving only nine laws, which are:

No Skipping
Reptilian Volleyball is O-u-t
Honor Thy Fodder
No Chewing Gum
Defend your Landmother
No Pepper
Rip What You Sew
action: Possession is nine tenths of the law
response: The horn begins to trumpet out a stuttering protest, but the logic of law is so compelling that it quits, and you take possession of the horn.
action: You examine the horn
response: The old brass horn is dinged up and tarnished from seemingly centuries of use by the town crier.
action: You blow your own horn
response: You give the horn a big, brassy toot; but no one is around to hear it.
action: You get the paper
response: That would be against the law.
action: You enter the house
response: This is the lobby of the town hall, looking stately and deeply lacquered. A boldly impressive staircase leads up and you can see steam drifting out of a room at the top of it. The main focus of attention in the lobby is an imposing, ornately framed document hanging on the wall.

A six-pack of beer -- the loyal constituency of cigar-chomping, back-room politicians -- sits on the floor beneath the document.
action: You examine document
response: On brittle, yellowing paper you read the following:

The World, verily, is proved to be flat!

The Rule of the Great Kazooli shall spread to the corners of the World!

And beloved shall be Our Mayor in the eyes of the World!

Forsooth, His Rule shall endure a thousand years!
action: You look at the beer
response: The cans of beer are tall and thick, each labeled with the brand name "Deep Six" and each depicting the same bluish misty ocean scene.
action: You take the beer under the false pretenses
response: Yes, there's more than one way to steal a pack, but under false Pretenses is surely not the worst way. You cradle the six-pack in your arms like the mother's milk of local politics, which it is.
action: Describe the surroundings
response: This is the lobby of the town hall, looking stately and deeply lacquered. A boldly impressive staircase leads up and you can see steam drifting out of a room at the top of it. The main focus of attention in the lobby is an imposing, ornately framed document hanging on the wall.
action: Up
response: The bathroom, thoroughly steamed up, is ample in space but untidy in appearance. A pile of dirty linen marks the entrance to the staircase.

A comb lies in a puddle of water by the bathtub.

Against the far wall you can see a bathtub. Inside is a duck, which is looking confused and swimming around in circles and figure-8's.

Standing against one wall is the strange sight of a jar that stands nearly as high as the ceiling.
action: You examine the jar
response: It looks like every other "a jar" you've ever seen.
action: You look at door
response: From inside the big jar there comes a flash of light which intensifies in several quick, increasingly brighter pulses. Prismatically, the large surface  of the jar glows with the colors of the rainbow. Then in a blink of your eyes, the light show is over and in the place of the jar you observe a quite ordinary closet door, which is now open.
action: You get the linen
response: Keeping your nose at a distance from the soiled clothes, with an outstretched arm and with the tips of your thumb and finger, you daintily lift a garment off the top of the pile and then drop it. Some kind of disguise slides off the pile.

Reluctantly, you pick up the clothes.
action: You look at the disguise
response: This a grotesque, clownish, Punchinello mask, apparently worn by the mayor when he travels incognito.
action: You make a the clown of myself
response: [Use the word "out." For example, MAKE A VIRTUE OUT OF NECESSITY.]
action: You make a the clown out of myself
response: The Jack of all Traits begins to play a simple plunkety tune, and as the music becomes louder and louder the strange contraption starts looking a lot more like a box and a lot less like anything else, and the music gets louder and louder until...

"Pop!"

The lid springs open and a jester rears its jolly head.

"Boing... Boing"
action: Look around
response: The bathroom, thoroughly steamed up, is ample in space but untidy in appearance. A staircase leads down.

A comb lies in a puddle of water by the bathtub.

Against the far wall you can see a bathtub. Inside is a duck, which is looking confused and swimming around in circles and figure-8's.

The door to the closet is open.
action: You examine the comb
response: The comb is distinguished by having a series of exceptionally fine teeth.
action: You examine the duck
response: Your first assumption, considering the circular swimming pattern, is that this is one duck which doesn't have both oars in the water. On closer examination, however, you determine that one of the duck's feet has been injured, no doubt in some boating accident.
action: Lame duck
response: Slapping its white wings against the surface of the water and quacking up a storm, the angry duck creates nothing less than a raging cyclone in the bathtub. When the bad weather passes, you can see the rotund figure of the mayor, Jimmy "Fat Baby" Kazooli reclining in the tub.
action: Look around
response: The bathroom, thoroughly steamed up, is ample in space but untidy in appearance. A staircase leads down.

The mayor is sitting in the bathtub.

The door to the closet is open.
action: Go downwards
response: This is the lobby of the town hall, looking stately and deeply lacquered. A boldly impressive staircase leads up and you can see steam drifting out of a room at the top of it. The main focus of attention in the lobby is an imposing, ornately framed document hanging on the wall.
action: Go outside
response: You're in the public square. Facing one edge of the square stands an impressive looking neo-colonial town house, which is decoratively fronted by a row of laurel bushes.

In the middle of the public square stands a thick, ten feet tall stump of a tree. Attached to the stump is a sheet of paper.
action: Air laundry
response: You manage to launder the mayor's dirty linen, working it over with the sinewy resoluteness of a peasant. Though not entirely a wholesome experience, you can feel from the stiff westerly breeze that it's serving to clear the air and bring about a cleansing effect on the mayor's reputation. The linen is finally caught up by one especially strong gust -- each piece is filled with air like a sail and drifts far away across the blue sky.
action: You look in the closet
response: Darkness seems to radiate out of the closet.
action: You open the closet
response: It already is!
action: You search the closet with the fine tooth comb
response: Using the crack resources of the well-appointed sleuth, you painstakingly search the closet high and search the closet low. Sounds of chattering teeth and then of bones knocking together come out of the closet as you seem to have stirred something up. There is again quiet for a moment, and then a full skeleton is seen to feint out of the darkness, rattling to the floor in a heap.
action: Deep six the skeleton
response: As you give the skeleton the deep-six, the bones sink beneath the filmy surface of the water, slowly twisting and sinking much deeper than the tub would seem to be, until finally it disappears into the murky depths of Davey Jones' Locker. The mayor breathes a large foul-breathed sigh of relief.
action: Inventory
response: You have a comb, a disguise, a six-pack of beer, laurels, your own horn and a decree.
action: You blow your own horn
response: You give the horn a big, brassy toot. It seems to be music to the mayor's ears, since he for the first time really takes notice of you, and smiles upon your vainglorious trumpeting.
action: You examine decree
response: The decree would outlaw all language play in town. There is a line at the bottom for the mayor's signature.
action: You give decree to Mayor
response: The mayor seems to want to finish his bath before endeavoring in any official duties.
action: You give the laurels to Mayor
response: Briskly, the mayor refuses your offer.
action: You look at the disguise
response: This a grotesque, clownish, Punchinello mask, apparently worn by the mayor when he travels incognito.
action: You throw the baby out with the bathwater
response: From the consequential uproar, there seems to be a ring of truth in this phrase. In strong jets shooting at varying trajectories, the bathwater in the tub begins first to spout off. Suddenly, this messy but harmless spectacle of the spouts is over, and angry riptides ruffle the water's surface. Now with the tidal force of lunar determination, the bathwater polarizes itself around the edges of the tub and even higher, engulfing the mayor and leaving a wide funnel of air in the middle of the tub.

As the gathering water reaches a critical peak, it pauses for one brief moment, and now with an awful suddenness collapses into itself to form a fearful wave of tubular shape and seismic strength. It gushes in front of your face and toward the stairs in a torrent, through which you can see the strange slow-motion figure of the mayor swimming half in air and half in water. Following the mayor inside the wave and down the stairway is the tub itself, which, out of your sight, makes the terrible crashing noise of porcelain going to smithereens.
action: You beat it
response: [Be specific: What object do you want to beat?]
action: Go downwards
response: This is the lobby of the town hall, looking stately and deeply lacquered. A boldly impressive staircase leads up. The main focus of attention in the lobby is an imposing, ornately framed document hanging on the wall.

The mayor, wearing a white terry cloth robe with his initials stitched on it, is here pacing the floor and looking very philosophically concerned with the Big Problems of Our Time.
action: You examine the stump
response: On the tree stump you see laws of the land.
action: You search the bushes
response: Beating around the bush, you come upon a ticket stub enmeshed in the dense lower branches of the laurel. You pick it up and dust it off.
action: You look at the ticket
response: The ticket is issued by the First Church of the Heavenly Ferris Wheel, the foremost religious institution in town. It decrees one blessing to be given by the bearer of the ticket to any individual.
action: You enter
response: As you approach the column-lined town house through the path dividing the  well-manicured lawn, you are overcome with fear and trembling and are forced to turn back toward the square. It seems the idea of entering such a reviled house of corruption with a blessing is spiritually and realistically impossible.
action: You remove the disguise
response: You remove the disguise.
action: Go inside
response: Furtively, you pass through the yard into the town house.

This is the lobby of the town hall, looking stately and deeply lacquered. A boldly impressive staircase leads up. The main focus of attention in the lobby is an imposing, ornately framed document hanging on the wall.

The mayor, wearing a white terry cloth robe with his initials stitched on it, is here pacing the floor and looking very philosophically concerned with the Big Problems of Our Time.
action: Bless Mayor
response: The air surrounding the mayor gradually turns pure and bright. An expansive campaign-smile spreads across his face as he bathes in the saintliness of the blessing bestowed. As the halo effect fades, it seems to have lifted away the dread weight of the mayor's burdens.
action: Look around
response: This is the lobby of the town hall, looking stately and deeply lacquered. A boldly impressive staircase leads up. The main focus of attention in the lobby is an imposing, ornately framed document hanging on the wall.

The mayor, wearing a white terry cloth robe with his initials stitched on it, is here pacing the floor and looking very philosophically concerned with the Big Problems of Our Time.
action: You give the decree to Mayor
response: The mayor, finally convinced of the worthiness of the decree, breaks into a broad smile and slaps you endearingly on the back, nearly causing whiplash. He grabs the scrap of paper and signs it perfunctorily. He leaves, happily.
action: You rest on the laurel
response: With dreamy slowness you begin to fall back upon your laurels for the long, soulful respite you have so well deserved. In the enclave of your dreams the clarion voice of a herald is given forum:

"We, the members of the Citizens' Action Committee of Punster, do hereby honor your exploits in delivering our town of the nefarious crime of wordplay. Punster has once again returned to a life of trusting normalcy.

For the McCleary Farm, the cows have truly come home. Audiences once again revel in the gift of laughter. A pretty girl is rescued from the brink of tragedy. You have made our town safe for shopping. The Teapot Cafe is a homey hearth and nourishment to our supping folk. A house for guests has gained back its repute. A neighboring town must no longer live down its name.

In gratitude to your selfless dedication to our humble town, we present you with the Key to the City. May it unlock all the doors for you along life's path."

You fall still further into deep and luxurious sleep.

Would you like to start over, restore a saved position, or end this session of the game?