Pick Up The Phone Booth and Aisle

M

Magikrazy

Donkey Kong
Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.

On to the next aisle.

The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly colored aisle markers visible.

You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.

There is a brunette woman a few meters ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
A shiny metal phone booth sits in the center of the aisle.

Your move:
 
enter phone booth
 
How convenient, you needed to make a call!

You enter the phonebooth and are about to put some change in when the phone starts ringing. Puzzled, you look around outside. No-one else seems to have noticed. Hesitantly you pick up the receiver.

"Hello?" you say, a little nervously

"Do not move." Commands a deep, resounding voice, "I am holding an AE sniper rifle and you are clearly in my line of fire. From this range the impact would blow your head clean off."

You glance around, terrified, wondering if this is some sick hoax. "Whu, what?" you mumble, unable to quite control your voice. At that moment a jar of pickles on the shelf next to you explodes.

"That was just a warning shot. If you move again, it will be straight through your forehead."

A small part of you acknowledges that this could have just been an enormous coincidence, but you're unwilling to take that chance. You are briefly aware that you have soiled yourself- this gives you some resolve to escape from whatever the hell's happening, just to save the embarrassment of being discovered dead with your pants covered in shit. Mastering your quavering chest, you manage to ask:

"Wh, what do you want?"

"I want you to come clean." Says the voice.

"About what... To who?"

"Whom."

"...What?"

"You mean 'to whom', not 'to who'"

Sighing heavily you reply "For fuck's sake, you goddamn grammar nazis, I-" But at that moment you feel another bullet whistle past your ear, shattering two of the panes of glass in the booth;

"THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH SPEAKING ENGLISH PROPERLY!" Screams the voice in a white-hot rage-

"Jesus fucking Christ, alright! To whom, to whom!"

The voice is silent for a moment- "I'm sorry" it says, "I lost my composure a little. Where were we?"

"Uhh," you reply, "You were about to let me go?"

"Very amusing. Oh yes: I want you to come clean to your wife"

There is a long pause; "What?" You say, in genuine puzzlement.

"I want to admit to your wife about your affair"

Says the voice, darkly. You are silent for a moment before replying:

"But I'm not married..."

There is a long, tense pause...

"Do not lie to me, Mr. Shepherd."

"That's... that's not my name..."

"...What?"

"My name is Johnson" You say.

"Aww, fuck." Says the voice, "I've got the wrong goddamn person..."

Utterly mystified, you keep quiet-

"Well, I'm just gonna get the piss taken out of me if this gets out" he says, "So I think I'm just going to have to kill you."

At that moment you are both shot by the writer of "Phonebooth"
*** YOU WERE KILLED BECAUSE OF A COPYRIGHT ***

But wait...

You feel a tremendous wrench – the hand of God coming down to wipe clean the temporal chalkboard. The world dissolves, and then quickly floods back into existence, restoring its state as it was before you made your move.

But somehow, things aren't set up exactly the same as last time....






Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.

On to the next aisle.

The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly colored aisle markers visible.

You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.

There is a brunette woman a few meters ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
A shiny metal phone booth sits in the center of the aisle.
 
Magikrazy said:
How convenient, you needed to make a call!

You enter the phonebooth and are about to put some change in when the phone starts ringing. Puzzled, you look around outside. No-one else seems to have noticed. Hesitantly you pick up the receiver.

"Hello?" you say, a little nervously

"Do not move." Commands a deep, resounding voice, "I am holding an AE sniper rifle and you are clearly in my line of fire. From this range the impact would blow your head clean off."

You glance around, terrified, wondering if this is some sick hoax. "Whu, what?" you mumble, unable to quite control your voice. At that moment a jar of pickles on the shelf next to you explodes.

"That was just a warning shot. If you move again, it will be straight through your forehead."

A small part of you acknowledges that this could have just been an enormous coincidence, but you're unwilling to take that chance. You are briefly aware that you have soiled yourself- this gives you some resolve to escape from whatever the hell's happening, just to save the embarrassment of being discovered dead with your pants covered in shit. Mastering your quavering chest, you manage to ask:

"Wh, what do you want?"

"I want you to come clean." Says the voice.

"About what... To who?"

"Whom."

"...What?"

"You mean 'to whom', not 'to who'"

Sighing heavily you reply "For fuck's sake, you goddamn grammar nazis, I-" But at that moment you feel another bullet whistle past your ear, shattering two of the panes of glass in the booth;

"THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH SPEAKING ENGLISH PROPERLY!" Screams the voice in a white-hot rage-

"Jesus fucking Christ, alright! To whom, to whom!"

The voice is silent for a moment- "I'm sorry" it says, "I lost my composure a little. Where were we?"

"Uhh," you reply, "You were about to let me go?"

"Very amusing. Oh yes: I want you to come clean to your wife"

There is a long pause; "What?" You say, in genuine puzzlement.

"I want to admit to your wife about your affair"

Says the voice, darkly. You are silent for a moment before replying:

"But I'm not married..."

There is a long, tense pause...

"Do not lie to me, Mr. Shepherd."

"That's... that's not my name..."

"...What?"

"My name is Johnson" You say.

"Aww, fuck." Says the voice, "I've got the wrong goddamn person..."

Utterly mystified, you keep quiet-

"Well, I'm just gonna get the piss taken out of me if this gets out" he says, "So I think I'm just going to have to kill you."

At that moment you are both shot by the writer of "Phonebooth"
*** YOU WERE KILLED BECAUSE OF A COPYRIGHT ***

But wait...

You feel a tremendous wrench – the hand of God coming down to wipe clean the temporal chalkboard. The world dissolves, and then quickly floods back into existence, restoring its state as it was before you made your move.

But somehow, things aren't set up exactly the same as last time....






Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.

On to the next aisle.

The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly colored aisle markers visible.

You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.

There is a brunette woman a few meters ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
A shiny metal phone booth sits in the center of the aisle.
Click to expand...
 
You grab the brunette's sauces and pour them on her. She suddenly starts shorting out and blows up. You say "What the hell was that?". Meanwhile, a man in a camera room says "Oh, crap! He's on to us! We need to kill him!".

**You are killed by the government**

But wait...

You feel a tremendous wrench – the hand of God coming down to wipe clean the temporal chalkboard. The world dissolves, and then quickly floods back into existence, restoring its state as it was before you made your move.

But somehow, things aren't set up exactly the same as last time....






Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.

On to the next aisle.

The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly colored aisle markers visible.

You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.

There is a brunette woman a few meters ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
A shiny metal phone booth sits in the center of the aisle.
 
The brunette is stuffed into a phone booth. Some college kids decide to join in and stuff others into the booth. You are accidentally stuffed in the booth during the excitement. Your elbow presses the "Self-Destruct" button.

**You die by college tradition.**

But wait...

You feel a tremendous wrench – the hand of God coming down to wipe clean the temporal chalkboard. The world dissolves, and then quickly floods back into existence, restoring its state as it was before you made your move.

But somehow, things aren't set up exactly the same as last time....






Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.

On to the next aisle.

The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly colored aisle markers visible.

You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.

There is a brunette woman a few meters ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
A shiny metal phone booth sits in the center of the aisle.
 
You decide to fling the bright plastic bags containing pale skin-tone shapes at the brunette. The bags burst open making the pale skin-tone shapes go everywhere. The brunette says "What was that for?". You respond "I don't know".

**Nothing was accomplished.**

But wait...

You feel a tremendous wrench – the hand of God coming down to wipe clean the temporal chalkboard. The world dissolves, and then quickly floods back into existence, restoring its state as it was before you made your move.

But somehow, things aren't set up exactly the same as last time....






Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.

On to the next aisle.

The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly colored aisle markers visible.

You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.

There is a brunette woman a few meters ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
A shiny metal phone booth sits in the center of the aisle.
 
Get whatever pasta I came for.
 
You stop to look at the pasta for a second. A sudden thought and an eerie feeling both hit you at once, both of which can be summed up in a question: What if this was the last decision you ever made? What if, after all was said and done, this was it? That this was the point at which the temporal chalkboard would be wiped by the hand of God, that everything would end here, and this was your last decision, the very last thing you could possibly be remembered by? What if this pasta was it?

With great trepidation, you reach out your now-shaking hand, nervously trying to make sure that, just in case this is the last pasta — that is, the last pasta — that you choose wisely. You close your eyes and choose the rigatoni.

You wait.

You continue waiting.

You open one eye, expecting something to happen.

Instead, a whole lot of nothing happens.

Nothing, that is, aside from other customers passing you by, wondering why you have your hand outstretched, holding a bag of rigatoni. Looking slightly embarrassed, you hastily put the pasta in your cart and go about your way. "Temporal chalkboard wiped by the hand of God". What a stupid thought, you think to yourself. Where did THAT come from?

Looking in your cart, you realize it was a good thing that wasn't the end, because now you can't figure out how on earth you're going to make your prize spaghetti recipe with rigatoni.

*** I mean, rigatoni? Come ON. ***

But wait...

You feel a tremendous wrench – the hand of God coming down to wipe clean the temporal chalkboard. The world dissolves, and then quickly floods back into existence, restoring its state as it was before you made your move.

But somehow, things aren't set up exactly the same as last time....






Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.

On to the next aisle.

The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly colored aisle markers visible.

You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.

There is a brunette woman a few meters ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
A shiny metal phone booth sits in the center of the aisle.
 
GreenDisaster said:
Go crazy
Click to expand...
You run around in a random fashion screaming your pants off. You run into the phone booth.

***Ouch.***

But wait...

You feel a tremendous wrench – the hand of God coming down to wipe clean the temporal chalkboard. The world dissolves, and then quickly floods back into existence, restoring its state as it was before you made your move.

But somehow, things aren't set up exactly the same as last time....






Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.

On to the next aisle.

The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly colored aisle markers visible.

You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.

There is a brunette woman a few meters ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
A shiny metal phone booth sits in the center of the aisle.

Dr. Javelin said:
I Pick Up The Phone Booth and Aisle.
Click to expand...
Yes, THIS is a clue that was in the title of the game!

That's right:
*** You have won (well, actually, you fell into a well while on drugs, but don't worry--Lassie will be here eventually). ***

But wait...

You feel a tremendous wrench – the hand of God coming down to wipe clean the temporal chalkboard. The world dissolves, and then quickly floods back into existence, restoring its state as it was before you made your move.

But somehow, things aren't set up exactly the same as last time....






Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.

On to the next aisle.

The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly colored aisle markers visible.

You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.

There is a brunette woman a few meters ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
A shiny metal phone booth sits in the center of the aisle.


Utsuchao Reiuji said:
>eat phone booth
Click to expand...
You open your ginormous mouth, and...

SLURP!

"Ah, that hit the spot," you say to yourself. Satasfied by a job well done, you begin to leave the store, leaving behind your groceries in your joy. You try to get into your car, but the phone booth (which actually was two times your size) has changed your shape, making you rectangular and unable to get into the drivers' seat. You see a man pass by, and, knowing that you'll probably fit in the trunk of a car, you go up to him.

"Hey, buddy!" you chirp cheerfully.

"No," the man said. "My name's Guy."

"So?"

"So my name's not Buddy."

"Whatever," you say. "Listen- I just ate a phone booth, and now I can't fit in my car. Would you mind shoving me in my car's trunk and driving me home?"

"Sure!" the man says enthusiastically. "I don't have a car anyway, and I have SO many sto- er, I mean, purchases to take home." He shoves you in your trunk quickly.

"But I haven't told you where I live yet!" you shout, though through the trunk, your muffled speech sounds like "Mmf I mmfn't mlld mu mrr I mm met!"

"Don't worry," he says. "I'll find it. Even if it kills you trying."

Reassured by this kind person, you settle down and fall asleep.

Ten minutes later, you hear a siren and someone shouting, "We have you surrounded! Do not go any further!"

The car trunk opens and a policeman asks if you're okay. The man who drove your car glares at you.

"We received your 911," the policeman says. "Thank goodness you had swallowed that phone booth or we would have never caught this notorious criminal."

911? And how did he know that you swallowed a phone booth? But, people think you're a hero anyway, so you just revel in the glory of it all.


Ten years later, which would be five years after you fully digested the phone booth, the man is let out of prison on parole. He really does find your house.
*** He really does kill you, too. ***

But wait...

You feel a tremendous wrench – the hand of God coming down to wipe clean the temporal chalkboard. The world dissolves, and then quickly floods back into existence, restoring its state as it was before you made your move.

But somehow, things aren't set up exactly the same as last time....






Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.

On to the next aisle.

The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly colored aisle markers visible.

You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.

There is a brunette woman a few meters ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
A shiny metal phone booth sits in the center of the aisle.
 
GreenDisaster said:
Write on temporal chalkboard
Click to expand...
Excuse me? Are you the hand of God?

***Let me show you how it's done***

But wait...

You feel a tremendous wrench – the hand of God coming down to wipe clean the temporal chalkboard. The world dissolves, and then quickly floods back into existence, restoring its state as it was before you made your move.

But somehow, things aren't set up exactly the same as last time....






Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.

On to the next aisle.

The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly colored aisle markers visible.

You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.

There is a brunette woman a few meters ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
A shiny metal phone booth sits in the center of the aisle.
 
GreenDisaster said:
Shake hand of god
Click to expand...
The hand of God reaches out, and you decide to shake it, as leaving Him hanging would be a sin. However, He crushes you with His giant godlike hand.

***Crap, I should probably do something.***

But wait...

You feel a tremendous wrench – the hand of God coming down to wipe clean the temporal chalkboard. The world dissolves, and then quickly floods back into existence, restoring its state as it was before you made your move.

But somehow, things aren't set up exactly the same as last time....






Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.

On to the next aisle.

The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly colored aisle markers visible.

You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.

There is a brunette woman a few meters ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
A shiny metal phone booth sits in the center of the aisle.

Gardevoir said:
go home.
Click to expand...
You decide to leave the store. However, you forget to pay for the pale skin-tone shapes. The cops notice you trying to leave and arrest you.

***Don't drop the soap.***

But wait...

You feel a tremendous wrench – the hand of God coming down to wipe clean the temporal chalkboard. The world dissolves, and then quickly floods back into existence, restoring its state as it was before you made your move.

But somehow, things aren't set up exactly the same as last time....






Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.

On to the next aisle.

The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly colored aisle markers visible.

You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.

There is a brunette woman a few meters ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
A shiny metal phone booth sits in the center of the aisle.
 
Gardevoir said:
I SHOOT MAGIKRAZY SO HE CANT FINISH THIS..
Click to expand...

I dodge the bullet and ban you for trying to shoot me.

***You've been banished.***

But wait...

You feel a tremendous wrench – the hand of God coming down to wipe clean the temporal chalkboard. The world dissolves, and then quickly floods back into existence, restoring its state as it was before you made your move.

But somehow, things aren't set up exactly the same as last time....






Late Thursday night. You've had a hard day and the last thing you need is this: shopping. Luckily, the place is pretty empty and you're progressing rapidly.

On to the next aisle.

The aisle stretches to the north, and back to the south. The shelves on either side of you block your view of the rest of the supermarket, with only the brightly colored aisle markers visible.

You have stopped your trolley next to the pasta section, bright plastic bags full of pale skin-tone shapes.

There is a brunette woman a few meters ahead, filling her trolley with sauces.
A shiny metal phone booth sits in the center of the aisle.
 
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