You head over to Thermopolis and ask around until you find a qualified mineralogist. As you stand and wait for the humming expert to finish his inspection of the rock, you start to worry that the mineralogist’s overtly transsexual makeup is going to be more intriguing than the makeup of the rock.
“Well, buck-o, looks like you have a promising specimen,” he says, raising the pitch in his voice and shaking his head so you can easily sense his gay delight. “How about you and me take a ride back out to where you found this bad boy and we’ll see if my inclinations prove to be…rock hard solid.”
You hardly have any choice but to endure those last four tonguey syllables and make the nighttime drive back out to the location. You try to make some philosophical discussion over whether you’re infringing on your employer’s property rights but all this guy seems to have on his mind is his jollies. The first thing he mentions when pulling out his oblong Geiger counter is how he’s used his erect penis for water-witching.
It’s only a little further along your walk until his flashlight turns off. You feel the strong grip of his hands around your wrists and a breathy whisper make the suggestion that maybe “we should start feeling our way around first.”
If you allow yourself to be manhandled further, go to page 92.
If you don’t appreciate the conspicuous advances and flee while you’re still in position to, go to page 89.
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