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We wrapped up in O-town after something like 6 hours of flying (please cut-and-paste paragraph 3 of Stockton post here), which should read more like “We collapsed in O-town after belly crawling over thumbtacks through 9 levels of Hell whilst being prodded by white-hot pitchforks wrapped in barbed wire and fed sandspur candy with cups of boiling vinegar.”

John and Stephanie bought a house, and the rest of the family came into town to gloat about all the hard work they were going to have to do. It really is a shame that we had to kill them with garrote wire lest they reveal our secret plans to the Enemy.



The next morning, we completed the last leg of our trip back to Gville, but not before stopping at the Dairy Farm (or something like that), where they continually waft human waste at you

but then you get a refreshing shake. A fair trade, although it’s a shame that we had to kill them with garrote wire lest they reveal our secret plans to the Enemy.



THE END.