Page 4.Yeah, f**k that s**t! Turn to page 5.
As you set out to explore further, a blinding light suddenly strikes out at you--leaving you temporarily stunned. You panic, thinking the cops have found you already, but when your vision clears you are astounded to find yourself standing before a strange ship. Its doors are open, seemingly in invitation, and an eerie green light bathes the room in a wan, sickly glow. If you back away cautiously, deciding that--considering the eight tabs of acid and four Ambien you took earlier--it is highly likely that you are both sleepwalking and hallucinating, and you should probably just find a hole to sleep it off in, turn to page 6. If you say f**k it and honor the Tom Cochrane code, turn to page 7.
Page 6.You go home and sleep it off, because you're a total buzzkill and kind of a p***y. You later buy a Subaru and eventually die in your sleep. That's it. That's what your stupid life was.
You know who you are in this picture? No, not the rad, high-waisted kid ramming a console into tiny Ferenghi. No, you're the old man, actively regretting the chances he never took as he gazes into his own impending mortality.
Page 7.You barrel headfirst into the aqua light of the alien craft, all the while screaming quotes from what you think is probably Die Hard. "Welcome to the party, pal!" you bellow, charging. "LORP." Squawks the surprised alien, his beady little rat-eyes reflecting terror and yet, somehow, also an exotic kind of wisdom. He is hunched low, dressed in a bizarre spacesuit, and his face is covered in impossibly fine hairs.Â "LORP DOP." "Whoa, f****r. We speak English in this country," you begin, but you see only kindness in his tiny slit eyes. He extends his hand to you...