Twenty minutes to escape. That’s all I need; well that and some wire cutters, peanut butter, a deadbolt, some cyanide and a gas tank lid from a 1987 Jeep. This inexplicable possum stew will boil and seethe, until such a time that it helps create a barrier by which to deflect the debris from the Grizzly Imploded. And these Threatening Fragments from Four Boulders are coming in hot. It’s a fierce breakdown of post-apocalyptic jazz. Jagged pieces flung as far and wide as the implosion can carry them. Though it’s an inward force, the shock wave is somehow outward. And unless I can blast myself out of this containment bin before the 20 minutes of oxygen runs out on this cassette’s playtime, I’m surely doomed. But doom is not death, rather a chance not to do this again. This is a fun game, and every time there is some new deadly object flying at me that I didn’t notice the last time I averted harm and cheated death. For Grizzly Imploded is my Murdoc and I will not go down so long as they don’t.
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