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|Still in the Picnic Area||Score: 0||Moves: 4|
I wouldn't do that if I were you.
Fine, you get the lunch.
I'm just going to pretend you didn't just do that. Anyways, the little girl whos lunch you just took has returned and notices the conspicuous buldge in your pants from where you stuffed the lunch basket. She calls her daddy over and he fucks you up, son.
As you take your last breath, you feel relieved of your burdens. The feeling passes as you find yourself before the gates of Hell, where the spirits jeer at you and deny you entry. Your senses are disturbed. The objects in the dungeon appear indistinct, bleached of color, even unreal.
You appear to be made of a translucent floating white substance. There seems to be a golden halo hovering above your head.