June 17, 2009

Choose Your Own Adventure... Card 712

Warning: Parental advisory for violence, blood, foul language, and Bud Selig. This is a set of Choose Your Own Adventure cards by PunkRockPaint. If you have reached this page by accident and want to start at the beginning of the story click here.

The flaming ball bounces at Yount’s feet. He kicks it away as he glares at you. “It’s pronounced SWAYM... like LAME. I thought you were a fan?” You smile sheepishly, and light another ball as Sveum-like-lame shuffles down the line toward you. Releasing the ball, you shout, “SWAAAAAAAAYYYYYM” in your most sarcastic voice. CRACK! The flaming ball whizzes right by your ear. You turn in time to see what-used-to-be-Greg Vaughn drop to his knees, a flaming hole where his face used to be. He was only ten feet behind you! “Thanks,” you say to Yount. He just smirks and says, “That woulda been foul.”

 As Sveum gets closer, you light another and toss it up. Yount knows what to do, and rips a flaming liner right off Dale’s dome. The ball ricochets into the stands as the loud pop of Sveum’s exploding cranium echoes around the stadium.

  Five minutes later, your ammunition is gone. Flaming piles of the undead litter the field. Acrid smoke fills the air as entire sections of seats have burst into flames. Like a burning wave, the fire quickly surrounds you. Your eyes start to water as the stadium fills with smoke. You look on in amazement and sorrow as the stadium you love disappears in smoke and fire. It is time to get out of here. You turn to Robin, but he is lost in the haze. His tortured scream lets you know where he is. You run toward the scream. As you get close, you see your hero, your savior, lying in the infield dirt, his blood pooling around his head.

  You dive to your knees to provide him any comfort you can. The smoke in front of you begins to swirl, and a figure in shadow, backlit by the flames, emerges. As the smoke shifts, you see the owner of the Brewers, Bud Selig, standing with a bat resting on his shoulder. Before you can react, he says, “I can’t leave a witness. Can I?” He swings the bat, connecting with the side of your head. As your eyes close for the final time, and your world fades to darkness, a baritone voice echoes through the stadium P.A. 


Really??? Dead? Sheesh. Start over?

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