Choose Your Own Nuthouse
As the car races toward you at an ever-increasing rate, a small part of your mind imagines that vehicle is being driven by Stephen King…naw…
Anyway, you dive off to the right. You land in the gravel on the side of the road as the car that was previously heading to you at a high rate of speed slams on its brakes. The car skids to a stop and the driver jumps out and helps you up.
“Please excuse me,” says the man, “I wasn’t going to hit you. I just wanted to make sure no one beat me to picking you up.”
You stand up and look at the man. He’s in his thirties, balding, wearing a nice sweater and khakis, and appears to be smoking a pipe. You look behind him and see a nice family station wagon complete with a family. The woman and kids in the back seat look almost as if they stepped right out of the 1950’s.
“Umm, thanks…” you say.
“Walt. Call me Walt. Did you need a lift somewhere, stranger?” asks Walt.
“I was just heading to Lake Doomhole.”
“What a coincidence! So are me and the family! Jump in the back, we’ve got more than enough room!”
“Thanks, man, I really appreciate it,” you say to Walt. You jump in the back seat of the wagon.
“So why are you going to Lake Doomhole?” asks Walt.
You think about how to answer him. You could tell him the truth that you are going there to meet with your friends so you can get drunk, laid, and high, not necessarily in that order.
You could lie to him and say you want a nice quite place to study your Bible.
You could have a little fun with him and tell him you are going to meet with the other members of your cult to complete the ritual murder/suicide pact.
You decide to say: