“Would you like something to drink, sweetie, or do you know what you want?”
“Oh, I feel like pigging out on something sweet – give me that screamin’ fingers, er, shoo-moo pie or whatever it’s called.”
“Screamin’ Jay’s Cow Fingers and Mosquito Pie? Sure thing.”
You order a big glass of milk along with it and before you know it, you’ve eaten the dessert and left two dollars and thirty-seven cents in tip money next to the messiest plate.
Just as you’re making your way out past the spinning rack of farmers almanacs, your ear catches a faint and intermittent beeping, almost like Morse code, coming from inside a dispensing machine of Runt candies. You give the machine a nudge on the side with the bottom of your palm and out comes a miniature landslide of sugar-hard bananas, hearts, and limes followed by a strip of paper that looks like it belongs in a fortune cookie.
Sure enough, in laser blue chopstick font there reads a message: ‘Sioux Falls. E 26th. The dumpster outside the Saigon Panda. Your frequencies are 385, 215, and 005.’
You figure there are three decisions you could make: If you choose to skidaddle on down to Sioux Falls, SD to see what’s up, turn to page 138.
If you choose to take precautionary measures and have someone from the authorities accompany you, turn to page 110.
If you choose to simply inform the management that their vending machines are being tapped by Vietnamese competition and leave, turn to page 134.
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