Saturday, March 19, 2011


You pace back and forth, feigning contemplation.

"There's nothing to think about, they will do you and the whole of civilization nothing but harm!"

You overwhelmingly decide that you don't much care for capitalism anyway. Hell, you've been unemployed for months and before that you were an part time janitor at the elementary school; what has capitalism ever done for you? And if the communists were going to take over anyway you may as well get on the winning side while you still can. You are curious as to how you would have "single-handedly" taken down a global government, but take comfort in the fact that your life will have meaning now that you will be helping stage a coup.

You quickly sprint towards the blanket factory.

"You fool!" yells Tootie, chasing you once again.

The garage door to the blanket factory is closing quickly. You manage to roll under just in time, not unlike Indiana Jones, or perhaps Batman.

Yeah, Batman.

Tootie is banging on the garage door, urging you to do the right thing and leave while you can. He suddenly stops.
The room is dark but for a single beam of light piercing a shattered window, all other windows have been boarded up. You are surrounded by stacks of blankets made of questionable material. You'd grab a feel, but are skeptical of possible toxicity levels. The mothball ridden atmosphere overwhelms your gag reflex and burns your eyes. You start to wonder what sort of living hell you have come upon. Truly, this is an abandoned blanket factory if you've ever seen one. Which you have. Often.

"Welcome to Ticka Wicky's home base," says a voice so boring and lifeless that it may as well have been a wooden plank talking. A muscular man approaches you with an oil burning lamp. "We've spoken. My name is Roscoe."

You tell him you know he intends to brainwash you, but it will not be necessary. You are for the cause.

"This is wonderful news, follow me."

You follow Roscoe deeper into the blanket factory. Because of the darkness you can see no more than 5 feet in front of you, but he seems sure of his path. You two finally arrive to a bookcase. He pulls a book out and a staircase opens up revealing an underground lair full of people wearing labcoats and armed soldiers with stoic expressions.

"Pretty cool, huh?" says Roscoe smugly.

You think it's a little cliché, but just agree with him to spare his feelings. He's obviously put a lot of thought and money into this. A lot of boring, uncharismatic thought and money.

He leads you down the stairs.

Aside from red hammers and sickles the entire underground lab is made of chrome. Your reflection is in any direction you look.

You finally arrive to a room with two armed guards. The guards move aside to reveal Tootie tied up in a chrome-finished chair.

"Now for you to prove your loyalty."

Tootie cannot speak due to the chrome duct tape over his mouth, but his eyes say all that need to be said. Roscoe, standing side by side with you, hands you a gun.

"Kill Tootie Carbunkle and you will be a hero among the Ticka Wicky. We have already done all the hard work, you need only to a bullet in his brain."

You hold the gun, a 9mm glock, up and aim it at Tootie.


Shoot and kill Tootie, become a hero of the Ticka Wicky.

Suggest not killing Tootie, but torturing him to get more intelligence regarding the Tippy Dappel.

Make a move to grab Roscoe, taking him hostage until the Ticka Wicky acknowledge all of your demands, whatever you decide they are.

Shoot the guards and Roscoe, cross your fingers and hope for the best.

Thursday, March 17, 2011


You ask in a friendly tone who is calling in order to not raise any suspicions.

"My name is Roscoe, however who I am is not important. Tootie Carbunkle is not who you think he is."

Tootie's facial expression goes from distraught and heartbroken to serious and deadpan within seconds. It's as if he knows who you are speaking with, like he foresaw this exact moment.

"Who is on the phone, friend?" says Tootie. "Do you need me to take care of it for you?"

Your attempts at subtlety are not working, Tootie is clearly on to you.

"You need to leave your apartment, meet me in the abandoned blanket factory on Ruckers Avenue," the mystery man beckons. "Carbunkle is a merciless machine, he will not stop until he gets what he wants."

The phone cuts off.

The room is silent and tense, you and Tootie staring at each other. You consider confronting Tootie about the phone call but quickly change your mind. You calmly suggest leaving for some breakfast.

"Can I borrow your phone? I need to make a phone call.

You tell Tootie that you guys need to leave right away; you're really hungry.

"I'll be real quick don't worry a bi-" Tootie grabs you by the arm but you slip away. You bolt out the door, Tootie chasing you.

You are making a break for the old blanket factory on Ruckers, about 6 blocks away. Despite having outrun Tootie initially, he shows no signs of slowing down. You are in desparate need of catching your breath.

"You don't know what you're doing!" he yells. "Roscoe is manipulating you!"

Tootie eventually catches up to you and tackles you to the floor, about a block short of the blanket factory.

He picks you up from the ground and holds you against the brick wall with a great deal of force. The street is empty.

"I guess it's time for me to come clean. I am part of an interchronological police force called the T.P.D.A.P.L., Time Police Department of America for the Purpose of Liberty, generally called Tippy Dappel for short. I was sent here to protect you. If Roscoe and his dastardly organization get their hands on you they'll use you to turn the world into a global communist utopia! But we need you to fight for freedom and capitalist ideals, you see, you are the key to the future."

Realizing you are no longer struggling to get away, Tootie lets you down.

"Thirty years from now you single-handedly stop the communist take over. In order to stop you they devised a plan to come back in time, brainwash you and recruit you to their cause. To enact this plan they created the T.C.A.W.C.I., Time Cop Association for Worldwide Communist Installation, generally called Ticka Wicky for short."

You are speechless due to the information overload and frankly confused as to how these politically driven time traveling police forces were given such cutesy nick names.

"We need you now or the hope for our future is over."


Ask Tootie what you need to do to stop those commy bastards in their tracks. Life, Liberty, etc.

Make a break for the blanket factory. The free market is intrinsically vicious and unfair, power to the proletariat!

Wednesday, March 16, 2011


Though you are irritated by the combination of the sound of his voice while sober and the fact that he took the liberty of wrapping your towel around his naked body, you decide to listen to Tootie's life story, even if half-heartedly. You wouldn't want to upset what could be a dangerous, naked man in your living room.

"I'm all alone in this world," he sobs, "My wife died 4 years ago in a tragic accident. None of my friends will talk to me anymore, only alcohol takes the pain away. The worst part about it is that it's all my fault..."

You try to assure him it isn't his fault, despite having no context on the situation.

"You don't even have any context on the situation. Of course it's my fault, it should've been me on that log ride."

Due to the far-fetched nature of his story, you begin to suspect Tootie is lying about his past. Because of these suspicions you decide you'd rather not inquire for further details on his wife's amusement park related death. He decides it doesn't matter if you inquire for further details and goes on with his story.

"'Go ahead pussy,' I told her, 'What're the odds you'll actually fall in the fire?' If you could turn back time y'know kid?"

You drift in and out of the conversation. Regret this. Anguish that. Etc. You are on the verge of suggesting breakfast at the nearby diner.

Your house phone rings.

"You are in grave danger," says the monotone voice on the other end. "There's still time, you must leave your apartment immediately."

You are speechless. Tootie asks you if there's something wrong.

"Tell him it's a friend, tell him anything. Only I can help you get out of this alive."


Tell Tootie about the phone call and ask him what that's all about.

Follow the instructions of the mystery caller, he seems to have your best interest in mind.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011


You decide that despite how great the duster would look on you, the only way to ensure others don't take advantage of his current state of vulnerability is to drag him along with you to your studio apartment.

A cab eventually approaches, you whistle for it. You drag him into the cab with you and tell the driver your address. He is hesitant to drive into that part of town, however his body language screams "...but I really need the money."

Upon entering your apartment you are ready to collapse. You had no choice but to throw Tootie on your back and carry him up the four flights of stairs to your doorstep - the elevator has been out for weeks. You toss Tootie gently onto the couch you found on the sidewalk of the nearby suburbs.

There is a wet spot on your shoulders from carrying Tootie, he is soaked in what you hope is rain. You sit on a nearby armchair and begin to ponder how you will go about cleaning the imminent stain on your couch. You fall asleep.

In your dream all of your teeth fall out. Garfield, an orange tabby, tries to sell you a new set of human teeth.

You wake up uncomfortable. Psychologically from the dreams and physically from having slept in an armchair for 6 1/2 hours. Tootie is gone from the couch, but his clothes are on the floor in a trail towards the bathroom. You can hear the shower running.

The contents of his pants pockets are sprawled out across the floor. Mostly hard candy and loose change. Mostly nickels.

Tootie gets out of the shower wrapped up in your towel. He immediately begins to explain how alcohol had ruined his life.


Listen to his problems and offer to help him kick his bad habits. He is obviously in a great deal of stress with nobody to turn to!

Ignore whatever nonsense it is he's saying, you can already tell you can't stand him when he's sober. Besides, considering your recent dream you obviously have issues of your own.

Tell him he needs to leave immediately if he's not going to pay to get that fucking stain out of your sidewalk couch.


"Would you mind pointing me in the direction of the nearest pub?" asked the man in the duster.

You have a sense of security when you hear his voice. You can't put your finger on it, but you can trust this gentlemen. Perhaps it's the way his duster flows in the Chicago wind, though that probably isn't it - you aren't even in Chicago.

You travel with him to the pub.

"Y'know somethin'?" he asks you, slurring his words, "you're the best friend I've ever had."

Even though you two have just met, you can still somehow tell he's a genuine man. Not one of those half-man half-machines that is revealed only at the end of the story, and not one of those fake men that takes off a wig or a mask and reveals that he was actually a group of mischievous rodents in a clever disguise.

No, Tootie Carbunkle is most definitely not that.

Shortly after destroying his liver and leaving the pub, Tootie decides that you will be giving him a ride home. You don't have a car, but by the time you mention this he has collapsed to the floor. He is breathing, but despite his stylish duster he surely will not survive the night in the cold Denver air - though you aren't in Denver.


Call a cab for the both of you and let him crash on your couch. He seems too vulnerable to leave to the elements.

Look through his wallet for some money and his address in order to call a cab to drop his cold lifeless body at his doorstep. Whatever happens from there is not your fault.

Steal his wallet, watch and duster and leave him to die. Because fuck him, right?