searches the house, finds a depalidated coffee maker--sans coffee beans, of course, an unmarked battery which appears to be a high-school student's homework for science, a broom handle without a broom, a and roll of filthy and mouldering wrapping paper.
Inspects the roll of wrapping paper and after much work deduces that it bears the letters A, B, and TH. He concludes that it probably said "Happy Birthday", and would have been most surprised to learn that it instead said "Grab the Wheel and Ditch the Horse!," a catchphrase from the early days of the horseless carriage. [If this person's imagination is to be believed.]
After much work, you take the broom handle and stick it in your backpack. You try to walk out the door, forget to duck, and trip and fall flat on your posterior. You get up again, and--ducking this time!!-- head out the door into the hallway. Further searching of the house reveal a dead mouse, a pack of playing cards, a book explaining basic chess strategy, a flashlight without batteries, and a book titled The Pushcart War.
As you have heard that it was one of the best bits of satire ever written, you take The Pushcart War along.
You try to fit the science project battery into the flashlight with no success.
Intelligence rises by 2.
Inventory space decreases by 5.
Energy decreases by 2.
You overhear someones murmuring about a strange concept they termed "online" and are baffled by this term. As you head back to the kitchen you realize this person must be an imposter from outside your timeline or--even worse--from an alternate dimension. You feel that only someone from outside your timeline could have offed poor Bobby and be masquerading as someone they are not. They might even be using a false name. The sheer, staggering, Horror of the thought impels you to action! Such a person must not be allowed to continue spending time in this house; they must be driven out! For a moment you wonder whether or not this Horror is drunk and why it has such transparent wrappings before deciding it really doesn't matter. You must act. Unfortunately, there were multiple voices talking about this mysterious phenomenon and realize that you can only send one person outside at a time.
You draw near enough to the kitchen to hear the voices distinctly. Briefly, two voices rise high above the rest and you realize it is none other than the voices of your good friends PookaKetchup, from the town of Mustard, and Rager, from Gaming. The voices abruptly fall off as they hear you coming. You rush over to the parking lot, to your friend who is in charge of the party, one Lifthrasil ("Lift" for short), and urgently begin to whisper to him your suspicions. You realize you only have time to name one of those whispering about this outlandish concept and whisper....
"Dear Friend Lift, I fear that GameRager is from the future or is an alien from another planet. Either way, I fear he was one of the ones behind the abrupt departure of Poor Bobby.
"Please remove GameRager from this resort."
