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Your own words in someone else's mouth. Deeply upsetting.

The magic phone, in your room... Her knight, her sword, her lover returned...

Wow. A mega-blow. An all-in-one Hershel-ender.

You're not equipped to deal with this kind of blow. There's no controlling how this makes you feel.

You're going to have to take his word for it.

Who is Hershel Wilk? What is techno-fascism? Is squirt piss?

One takes longer as it includes tobacco. This is a bad time to forget which.

Sure. Attach bug to phone line and then it will do a bleep-bloop-blorg to the circuit thing.

Feels like a gesture that means something. Help? You cannot reliably tell.

All vestiges of humanity abandoned. One leg bent wrong.

A visage corkscrewed with distress.

Numbers... Blurry... Must try everything again.

Poetry's easy. Make it short, make it vague. Speak in rhyme.

La la la. What's the old man on about? You can't hear anything.

You brought that one on yourself.

Obviously making a commentary of sorts.

This man must be part of our welcoming committee. The gäng's legend spreads far and wide!

Einzeltone... No entries found. And no point trying to pretend.

A failure of imagination. You just feel left out. If anything, you sober up.

This is horrible. This just makes you want drugs even more.

All systems go down. A brief but total outage.

Circuits in your brain spark violently as they rebel against their own conclusions.

This is a reality television show. The plot is too complex -- the writers must be high on their own ad revenue cash.

Nice try. He doesn't realise that you know better than he does the fate of his body double.

Mud-soaked canine groin, leg lifted, as it pisses all over a bed of springy plants. You blink -- the piss hits your face, sours your taste, throwing you out from your pleasant dream among the budding white flowers.

76 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 2 of 2