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>Bring fat radish driver with you
"You." You snag the fat radish up by the scruff of his neck, as if he were a cat. "You'll do. You're coming with."
"Between you and me, I'm really not that good at carnival games, gorilla.." Lub warns you as you lug the fatass up over your shoulder. You snatch the key out of his pocket and lock the door. "Uh, and I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to live things up in hot cars."
"It'll be fine. We'll be quick, just play one game. And if we leave it unlocked, she'll get eaten." You sigh, tucking the keys into your PERSONAL SPACE. "Come on."
[...]
ROCK BOTTOM is somewhere between a circus and a butcher's shop--really, some kind of MEAT CIRCUS, music playing and a few bandits milling between the blood-soaked jawbone-toss and head-darts. A barker approaches the two of you, head masked by a sack and arm mutated by.. mutation goop, into some kind of chicken's claw.
"Welcome to ROCK BOTTOM!" He welcomes you, feigning a mock bow. "My name is DOUGLAS COCHARM. What gang do you run with, if you don't mind me asking? It's just that this is a bandits-only venue, you see. Can't let the riffraff in. They come in through the back entrance, in wheelbarrows."
"ROYALE WITH CHEESE." You make one up off the top of your dome. "You got any open games? Any ones that take to stakes instead of GG? My wallet's empty, but I've got some junk to barter."
"Why, certainly." His exposed eye lights up in delight. "Looking to barter that crown, or your underwear, or the tubby little mutant you've got with you? We've got GOLDFISH SCOOPING, GUN SHOOTING, and COMPETITIVE EATING."
>GOLDFISH SCOOPING.
>GUN SHOOTING.
>COMPETITIVE EATING.
>[Write-In.]
