/~* A Scroll Tale™ *~\
Choose Your Own
I enjoyed the horrific cries of Derek and Brian as they were decomposed by the acidic and radiative piles of mayonnaise. Suddenly, the mayo, Derek, and Brian all faded away. "Hello," said a familiar voice, "I hoped you enjoyed my little game." I turned around to behold a handsome looking Jeremy standing with his arms intelligently behind his back. "Game?" I responded, "Where are they? I was going to take over the world." "MWAH HA Ha ha ha ha!!! You? You and I both know that you are not capable of that. Oh no, not at all. However, I must congratulate you, you have passed your test."
Ben, you may have survived this adventure, but in no way have you conquered anything. Jeremy, in his ultimate wisdom, has decided that you are intelligent enough to hold a small leadership position under his reign. You have been selected to be his Minister of Meaty Armchairs. You fulfill your duties honorably for the rest of your days, which, sadly, end up being only twenty-three-and-a-half. Due to your overexposure to meat you are pathogenically infested with salmonella and die from food poisoning. You are given a proper, and quite expensive, funeral and are buried near a large farm in west Nebraska. However, your burial is also short-lived. Your body is dug up by grave diggers and is sold to Area 51 officials who mistake you for an alien due to your irregularly malformed spinal column. Your body is under 24-hour surveillance and is being stored in a cryogenic chamber. Perhaps someday you will be revived and allowed to continue your hopeless quest for world rule.