To The Left

You go left, and nothing really worth talking about happens. But then, suddenly, you hear a faint scuttling noise behind you – quiet at first, but then growing in volume. It appears as though a band of Potato Rats has caught the scent of the jerky in your pocket that you stole from the Pump and Dump, and they are quite ravenous. Sure, you easily fight off the first few, but eventually they out-man you, tearing through your pants to get to the jerky. Having gotten a taste for flesh, they continue on right past the jerky and devour the delicious meat that comprises you, Sir Figgypudding. You just got ate by rats. You are now dead.

Shoot. I would like to start over.

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