S.A.M.L.A.R.B Spectral Aquisitons of Material Lands And Resources Bureau

>Spin a fantastical yarn about yourself. Over-exaggerate and oversell EVERYTHING. There is no job too great, nothing you can't handle. You are a man of skill and action. In some circles you are known as Action Sam. You're just that good.

Think, Samuel, think! You have to conjure up SOMETHING to convince this burning woman to give you a good job, SOMETHING to convince her to let you lead an unlife more exciting than your actual life. Think back, Samuel, think back to what your father said.

“Son” spake he “Son, there are times in your life when a man is asked to account for himself. It could be to get a job, or to stay out of prison, or to trick a woman into his bed. These times may come for many reasons, but these times will come, and son,” spake he”son, I have but one piece of advice for you.” You remember how you rolled around on the floor, barely paying attention, but your father didn't seem to care. He was drunk and he wasn't even looking at you. The alcohol was cheap and largely industrial rather than edible. He mistook a ficus for his own son. “Lie, son. Lie your weasly black guts out. No man in our family has ever amounted to anything, Son. The Larbowtiz's aren't even walking jokes. We're walking nothings. So when you are asked to account for yourself, lie and make them think you're worth SOMETHING. Lie son, please lie.” He then wept into the ficus, stroking it gently and singing lullabies.

The memory disturbed you more than you are willing to admit, but the message was clear. You are going to lie Sammy boy, and lie good! You puff up your chest, stick out your pinkies, and spin a yarn so wild and free that the woman has to either believe you or declare you clinically insane. You tell a tale of adventure, of romance, of OFFICE romance (eyebrow wiggle and pelvic thrusting included, you've not given up on seducing this flaming hot bitty just yet). You speak of the monsters you have slain! Demons in the east! Terrors of the west! Krakens of the deep! Dragons in the north! You tell of how you saved children from burning orphanages, and orphanages from burning children! How you romanced it up with your hateful girlfriend before slaying her in the name of RIGHTEOUS FURY! YOU. ARE. ACTION. SAM! AND NOTHING WILL STAND IN YOUR WAY! YOU HAVE TESTED YOUR METTLE TIME AND TIME AGAIN, AND COME BACK VICTORIOUS! YOU ARE A GOD! YOU ARE A GOD DAMNED LORD OF ALL THI-

“None of this is in your background check Mr. Lawbawitz.”

Oh. Yep. There it is. Here it comes. You can taste the vomit at the back of your throat. Bile rising in shame. Your own stomach acids are too horrified of the ass of yourself you just made and want to vacate. They want to distance themselves from what you just did. You don't blame them, you want to distance yourself from what you just did as well. The sheer enormity of the fool you just made of yourself hits you in the back of the head like a sledge hammer. Not once, not twice, but thrice! You're amazed the piece of glass stayed embedded. You want nothing more than to crawl in a hole and hide for the rest of time. Well, you want one thing more. You want to kill yours-GOD DAMN IT! ...Did you call yourself Sammy Boy again?

>Hand the 'Mango' tape over wordlessly. You are certain that will tell her everything she needs to know.

You have one final option. Just one. You remove the Mango Cat tape from your inventory...wherever that is, and slide it over the table towards Lady Blaze. Somehow it withstands the great heat coming off of her. She stops screaming for a moment and looks down at the tape, and raises a melting eyebrow. She then looks at you expectently. Oh god, what does she want? What is she thinking? Does she think you stole it? Oh god, you did steal it. You stole it from the TV guy. Does she know? What'll happen if she knows? You start hyperventilating. Wait, what if she doesn't know and something else is bothering her? Oh god, is she JUDGING you? Judging your choice of Mango Cat tapes? It's not your tape! You don't even like mangos! You have no choice of Mango Anything Tapes! You're not an expert on small fruit! OH GOD WHY WON'T SHE LOOK AWAY! SAY SOMETHING YOU VILE SHE-BITCH!

You are panicking. Lady Blaze is looking from the Mango Cat tape on the desk, to you, expectantly. What do you do?

Inventory:

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Shard of glass embedded in head.
Blood (Hands)
A sense of smug self-righteousness

Nightmare Chest:

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An Office Complex in a sea of screaming faces and stars
The Concept of Eternity in an Office Job
Being Called Sammy Boy
Lady Blaze's Bloody Horrible Appearance
Small Fruit