Dave coughs
"Dude," says Dave. "What was that thing you were poking
me with?"
You look down at the slightly battered Slim Jim in your hand. It was
most stabbingest thing you happened to have in your pocket at the
time.
"Man," said Dave, exasperated. "You know my
psychosomatic narcolepsy is triggered by exposure to processed meat
products due to a traumatizing experience in my early childhood!"
Right, that psychosomatic narcolepsy. Dave has been going to some
fancy cutting-edge psychiatry hospital to get that treated for years
now. That's actually where he met Barbara, in the processed
meat-trigger ward. You realize that the Slim Jim is what freaked her
out, too.
"I guess we'd better find Barbara," you say, pocketing the
Slim Jim. It might come in handy later.
"Cough, cough," says the corpse behind you. You spin around
and see that it is not actually a corpse at all. Dave isn't even hurt.
He was just sleeping.
