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You reach into the bag and grab a handful of the Funions. Wes looks at
you with that same strange smile. As soon as you take your first bite,
however, his expression changes into that of horror.
"No, man... you don't... *eat* the Funions... you have to *know* the
Funions! You must... *be* the Funions... the essence of Funion!"
"Uh, Wes, they're just stale chips from a vending machine, dude," you
try to comfort him.
"No, you have desecrated the Funion Doctrine! You have killed the
Funion in all of us...
prepare to die." And with that statement, he summons the Spirit of the
Funions. He mutters a few words about "glucose triaminate" and
"hydrocarbonated vitamin A", but you turn around and pay him no heed.
Turning around was harder than expected, however, considering that your
flesh was, at the time, rapidly melting to the floor. Now a heap of
bones and goo, your spirit passes on to Funion Hell. And you're sure
there's no yearbook there.
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