You're Going To Die IX

Our adventure with human-eating roaches and the military encampment around our office continues this week. Our choices were to admit to the examining physician that we ate some Jack's Link Human Jerky or to lie our pants off. The advancement of the plot goes to borntobealoser. Had we chosen to lie, lie, lie to save our lives, this would have happend:

There’s no way you’re going to tell them about the Jack’s Links, they’ll arrest you and throw you back to the roaches, or worse, they’ll think you’re weird. “No sir, no banana, and no meat. I’m actually a vegetarian with a deep phobia of bananas.”

The small balding man looks back at his scanner, then gives you a concerned look, before deciding that it’s not worth the trouble to follow up on whatever his scanner detected. “Very well, move along.”

Phew, that was close! Now to speak to Angeline, maybe an insect apocalypse might be enough to convince her to go out with you. “Hey, Tankerbell! How’s about we ditch this place and go for a dri- Oof!” A sharp jab to the stomach with the butt of her gun is enough to knock the wind out of you and stop your attempt to hit on her in its tracks.

“Shut it, Pencil Pusher, I haven’t got time to deal wit- What’s wrong with your stomach?”

Sheesh, wasn’t she paying attention? You told them you hadn’t eaten the Jacks Links, how long is this going to go on for? “Nothing’s wrong with my stomach, the bald guy agreed, remember?” Judging by the fear in her face, you don’t think she does.

“That doesn’t explain why it’s rippling…” You look down. Your stomach is indeed rippling. Quite vigorously, in fact. Perhaps you should’ve told them about the Jack’s Links, after all. There’s no time to ponder this, though, as hundreds of tiny insects rip through your stomach, and an entire squad of soldiers starts to pump lead into you. It looks like your adventure, and your life, ends here.

Luckily we were smart enough to be honest and truthful, possibly for the first time in our lives. Thus:

You might as well tell them, he’s probably only asking because the scanner says something freaky is going on in your stomach, and you don’t want to die of infection, you’ll miss out on all the action, including a chance to hit on Miss Tankerbell. Besides, they probably wouldn’t believe you anyway.

“Why, yes I have. One suspicious banana, and a whole bag of human jerky. That isn’t a problem, is it?”

The man looks at you in horror. “You bet it’s a problem!” He turns to the other white coats and yells “We’re going to have to pump his stomach, NOW!”.

In a matter of seconds everybody else in the tent has launched themself on top of you, pinning your puny body to the ground. After successfully restraining you with minimal effort, they set you down on a table, and the small balding man pulls out a terrifying piece of apparatus from a drawer. You try to scream out and suggest that this might not be all that necessary, but it just provides the bald guy with an opportunity to shove the pump into your mouth. With a flick of the switch, the contents of your stomach is sucked back up the way it entered. From the corner of your eye you can see it all: the banana with the lump, check. Several pieces of dried human, check. A small army of baby roaches, che- wait, what?! The critters sprint off in every direction, attempting to make a bid for freedom, but Angeline and her squad are easily able to pick off every last one with their machine guns.

After being released from your restraints, you shriek “What the hell just happened? I don’t remember eating any bugs recently!”.

“Relax, Pencil Pusher, you’re not the only one that this has happened to, we’ve wasted half of our supply of ammunition on those things. You’re fine, for now.” says Angeline, matter-of-factly. “Now report to the civilian lodgings, or follow me to Captain Hook. You were the last one to leave that building, we could use any information you may have.”

Awesome! You managed to get away with eating human unpunished, and now Miss “Tankerbell” Angeline has just invited you to stick around. Your charm is rubbing off, after all.

Do you:
A: Head off with Tankerbell to find Captain Hook, OR
B: Report to the civilian lodgings

So have at it, folks! If you have an idea for what ought to happen in either situation, feel free to post even if it's not a fully finished scenario. Maybe someone else will get inspired by your concept!

The main challenge is for you to write up the results of both choices, one leading to death in classic CYOA style, the other to a furthering of the adventure, presenting us with two new choices at the end. As an added bonus, at least one of the write-ups must include the word "weasel", because weasel is a fund word to say.

Good luck!

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