"Hey. Hey you. Fish," you shout up at the fish. "Hey. Do you know how to get out of here?"

The Fish ignores you, but the thousands of tiny fang-beasts lurking somewhere up there on the counter are happy to help. And by "help," you know I mean "eat you alive."

How many times do I have to tell you: you're DEAD.
Go brag about your death at the GRAVEYARD.
Or START OVER.

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