Welcome to Masonland

Finally, after a whole week since your last call, you've just received an email containing a Letter of Acceptance to work at the Masonland park! You were just sitting at your computer, scrolling through to see if there was anything you missed when -lo and behold- an update! And your friends thought you couldn't make the cut... Well, to be honest, you were starting to think you weren't going to be hired after all, but nope! The email reads:

Congratulations!

You have been accepted to become a Night Custodian Family Member at the Masonland Park for the summer season. This is a valuable experience for all involved, and you are no exception! Your role is an important one: Helping to maintain the magic of Masonland.

As a Night Custodian Family Member, your hourly pay rate will be $8.00 (plus premium). We can't wait to get you started, so please visit our Web site as soon as possible, so you can acknowledge your participation, and so that we may plan for your arrival.

-Best wishes, Masonland Recruiting.

It looks like the training program you did last month paid off. So, now that your day has just gotten ten times better,

What will you do next?

toss bricks through windows

Get your maize on. Eat some celebratory corn

You see no reason not to celebrate getting the job; it's not everyday that you get to work for freakin' Masonland. Yes, a self-congratulatory celebration is in order.

Before you get up, you check the time on your computer: Midnight. The night's still young, so you might as well have a midnight snack and a pat on the back! You leap from your seat and, with the grace of a dancer, twirl your way across the room 'till you stop in front of the refrigerator. Let's see what I've got, you think to yourself as you pull on the handle with anticipation.

The main thing that catches your eye is a bowl filled entirely with corn-on-the-cobs. A friend gave you the corn because he had more than he needed for a barbecue he was having. The thing is, that was nearly a week ago, so that corn's going to go bad sooner than later. You really wouldn't like to throw the corn away if it's still good...

Devour the corn in five minutes flat then spend three times as long picking your teeth clean

You warm up the corn, then take it out to the kitchen counter. For the next five minutes you devour the corn like it's going out of style, generally making a mess as the juices fly onto the countertop (you disgusting pig). But by the time you're on your fifth cobbed corn, you begin to feel vibrations in your stomach, so you promptly stop eating.

After you clean up, you're itching to get the corn that's gotten in between your teeth OUT. Normally, you don't like to pick your teeth, but you've eaten so much it's all over your mouth and you can't TAKE IT ANY LONGER!

With haste, you enter your bathroom and proceed to spend fifteen whole minutes trying to get this crap out of your teeth. Suddenly, just when you're almost finished, the weird vibration in your stomach comes back, this time louder than before.

>As alarming as the noises your tummy-box is producing may be, they've got a pretty good rythm. Take this opportunity to indulge in an impromptu jam session. Drop that beat!

reach around for that hard-to-reach switch under your rib and put you stomach on Do Not Disturb

If things are going the way you think they're going, you don't think you'll be in the shape to do much of anything.

Your legs are starting to wobble, and it becomes more of a struggle to remain standing with each passing moment. Not to mention that currently your stomach feels like someone's twisting it with their bare hands. You get down on your knees and lean over the toilet.

Well, that didn't take long to happen! you reckon. Either you've eaten too much corn or it really did go bad after all -probably both. Now that you think about it, the corn did taste a little stale, but it's too late to regret your decision making.

It's time to play the waiting game, and you're not taking any chances by leaving the bathroom. So, you're just gonna sit where you are right now and hope for the best.

The best > happen.

Phone call > Happen

well maybe that corn cob was bad but who knows about the next one? you've gotta investigate

> Check your medicine cabinet for something to settle your stomach.

>A series of disaster dominoes that keep making things worse and garuntees the absolute worst possible outcome happens: happen

For the next half hour, or hour, or however many minutes are passing, you agonize over what might happen. What if you get so sick you miss work; what if you end up being fired before you even start your job?! Whatever the outcome, you know you're never accepting food from Farmer Brown ever again.

--

It takes a while, but your stomach is starting to quiet down. You wipe the sweat off your brow, take a few deep breaths, and attempt to stand up. As you're pushing yourself back up, you feel a slight burst of energy. Maybe you'll be OK after all.

Once you're back on your feet, you attempt to stumble out of the bathroom.

About five steps afterwards, the rumbling comes back in full swing and you begin to feel your midnight snack rise up in your throat.

You turn back towards the toilet as fast as you can, but, to put it bluntly, you don't quite make it.

Great, just great; your limbs are shaking so hard you feel like you're going to collapse any second, there's no way you can clean this mess on the floor right now. You open your medicine cabinet to see if there's anything that can help soothe your stomach, but the only thing you've got in there is a chewy pill for diarrhea, so you take one.

You can't stand to be in the bathroom any longer, so you take a trashcan out to your bedroom, holding the can close to your body. You fall onto your bed with a sigh of relief and, with a quivering hand, grab your phone.

It's times like this you wish you didn't live alone. You've got to call someone, but who?

Your surprisingly active grandmother.

Your (surprisingly) active grandmother probably wouldn't mind coming over to your place. You look through your Contacts list, press on her number, and wait.

She doesn't answer, and you're forced to leave a message; either she is sleeping or she's currently doing her daily trail hike already... wait! You remember now: Grandma flew over to Nepal to climb Mount Everest a few days ago, and she's probably not back yet!

You decide not to bother her, so you don't leave a message. Looks like Grandma's out, so who else can you call?

> Your friend who gave you the corn. This is his fault after all.

A little voice in your head tells you you should get that bastard who gave you the corn over here as payback, but you disregard it. He's really more of an acquaintance than a friend, so the two of you aren't really tight enough to have him clean up your vomit.

You feel like you're ready to pass out, and with each passing minute it becomes harder for you to keep your eyes open. You've got to make a decision while you can still think straight. Your grandma is in another country, your siblings are always too busy to pay any mind to you, and your parents would kill you for waking them up in the middle of the night.

There's only one other person you're close enough to who might agree to help, but she's about as nurturing as a porcupine. Still, you might as well give it a shot. You'd rather be the object of your best friend's teasing than be in your house alone and sick.

You scroll through your Contacts again to look for her number; her name is:

> Her name is: Ezra The Bloodletter. She is a professional alligator wrestler at the local Thunderdome.

Well, guess it's gotta be Ezra. *sigh* Ezra. That's not even her real first name but she thinks it's cool. You've been friends with her since sophomore year of high school.

But lately you've been kind of annoyed with her. "Ezra"'s been going on and on about lifting and going to the gym and she won't shut up about it. You think that maybe she's trying to become a wrestler or something? Whatever. It's her thing, you guess. It's just that before she got exercise-crazy she was the type of person you'd least expect to care about health and fitness.

You press her number and put her on speaker since your hands are really shaky. Just when you start to think she won't pick up you hear a familiar voice,

"Yo."

"Hey, Ezzie..." Your words hang in the air. It's so embarrassing to admit to her what happened, but you might as well do it...

You manage to say a few syllables before the doorbell rings. You freeze.

"Uh, are you still there?" Ezra asks.

"Wait a second," you tell her.

Should you ignore the doorbell, or should you go and see what's outside?

Check to see who's there before you open it

>Go and check outside, but be really passive aggressive about it. Act like you were going outside anyway.

Slowly, you stand upright. You tell Ezra to wait a minute and you take one bold step forward. The apprehension you're feeling gives you enough strength to walk towards the door.

You look through the peephole: There's a man wearing a heavy black coat, which is a little strange since it's the beginning of summer right now. It's kind of hard to make out his facial features because he's wearing a wide-brimmed hat.

The man is standing outside your door holding a folder in his hands. Is he from the government? Is he from your university? You can't tell. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You guess you're not too sick that you can't open the door, but seeing that guy gives you the shivers for some reason. Maybe it's because his dark clothes make him almost blend in with the darkness outside of the light.

You have no idea what you should do right now. If you don't answer him now he might come back later, but you still feel a little nauseous and weak on the knees.

What to do, what to do...

>Crack the door open just wide enough to fit your hand through, put your hand outside and give the man a rude gesture, then close the door and go back to bed.