Potato Town Dump
On the ride to the Potato Town Dump, you get the sense that your rickshaw puller isn’t being all that safe. He is texting while rickshawing, and beginning to swerve a bit. Eventually, he runs head-on into a light post, and even though rickshaws don’t have gas or anything flammable in them, the whole thing goes up in flames – the driver, the rickshaw, and you, Sir Esquire Figgypudding. Days later, your charred, ashen remains are strewn over the Potato River in what actually turns out to be a nice little ceremony, but that’s not part of this story. You’re dead, that’s all that matters.