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A SMALL TOWN IN LATE TWENTIETH CENTURY AMERICA… APPROXIMATELY EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND FIVE HOURS

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Turn 2.1

”Who the hell are you?”

"Look, dude," says Jarvis, ignoring the armed man rushing in and still talking to Mitchell, "That was, like... you know? And now we're…"

The Yogaka tries to invent words with his arms to express the awesomeness of the Yogic world.

He seems to fail.

"… Yeah, you know?"

”Uh? No?”

The armed man gets a little more aggressively pointy with his shotgun.

”I said, who the hell are you?”

"We're here for justice!" shouts Edith, bravely, "Your son is a bully! A bully of freedom! This will not stand, so we, uh, anyway the point is we're servants of justice and you probably shouldn't shoot at servants of justice."

”Probably shouldn’t, or definitely shouldn’t? I mean, girl, you’re invading my home, and this eejit is waving his hands at my son, and perhaps I’m feeling a little emotionally unstable since my wife just threw a perfectly good chicken in the trash before being exploded in half by a communist, and perhaps if I shot you all I could just blame it on the communists, right? Shit.”

Mr Chad Jackson hasn’t been so eloquent in years.

Diplomacy, kind of?

[6] "Er, I suppose you could? Please don’t?"

”Ha! No. No. I think it’s Mitchell who needs shooting.”

He lines his shotgun up at his son.

”He’s a bully of freedom – un-American. He’s probably even a co-“

"Mister Mister!" interrupts Wensley, saving the bully’s life, " The communists attacked your wife! She needs you out here right now to defend her life and her freedom!"

Attempt to convince Armed Dad to go outside. If Armed Dad becomes hostile towards either myself or one of my compatriots, use peacock pose on him.

[6] ”What? I’s fairly sure she’s dead, son. I saw her sliced in two by a flying automobile door. Jesus H Christ – and still the communists try to violate her freedom? Come on boy,” he says, lowering his shotgun and grabbing Mitchell Jackson, ”Get the junior shotgun. Hell no, get your mother’s AK, this is wartime. You too, boys and girls. Girl. Get yourselves a gun from the garage and come out here with me.”

The four Yoga students stand there, not quite sure what is going on. Another car explodes outside.

”I said, come outside with me, dammit. Are you going to let them Russians get all communist with my dead wife? Are you? Are you communists, or Americans?”

He raises his shotgun again.

”Well, dammit?”

"Uh. Not a communist?"

”Right. So grab a goddamn gun from the garage and come fight like men.”

Mr Chad Jackson points his shotgun at the four students, signalling towards the garage with his manly American chin. Jarvis Palkin shivers under his steely and possibly slightly unhinged gaze.

Yogic defense maneuver, stat!

[3] Suddenly Fisk breaks out his most adequate Yogic defensive move! He stands there like a cross between a tortoise and a mountain carved into the shape of a vintage US president.

”What the hell do you think you are doing son, ballet? Is that French? Grab a damn gun before I shoot you all for desertion and foreignness.”

Just then the sound of sirens appears in the not so distant distance.

”Quick, kids. Communist infiltrators. You’ve seen that film, right? This is gonna be like that. Arm yourselves or die!”

Don't stop believing. Hold on to that feeling, yeah. Shiver. Deploy unerring fist of justice when appropriate.

Jarvis feels that this may not necessarily be the appropriate moment to deploy his unerring fist of justice. Maybe when the madman is not pointing a gun at him?

"Well. Somewhat rude of them."

Play a soothing accordion instrumental to Terry Pin to assuage his pain, and perhaps heal together his bones.

"Do you have an accordion, Mr Pin? Or a will?"

"Mmhmm..."

Leap out of the bush quietly, clear my throat, and launch a Sneak Flank attack right behind the enemy, directing a Sing at the centre of the group. Accompany this on my new accordion. Improvise a generally wistful yet happy song on the theme of When Folks Believed In Treefish.

"I'll handle this. Evening, good fellows. My name is Gre- er Professor Kobosh... Ah, say, crikey - is that a fish in yon tree behind you?"

Having diverted them, jog back to the bus and rifle under every seat to check there's no loot left behind. After that move behind the bugbears with the intention of a flank attack next turn. Or the turn after that if they look very deadly.

Bake some cake to take to the tea party.

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A SMALL TOWN IN LATE TWENTIETH CENTURY AMERICA… APPROXIMATELY EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND FOUR HOURS

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Turn 2.0

Say above, in the hopes that the parents will go and check out the car crash.

"Oh no, looks like the communists are staging attacks! Sir, Madam, you must go help that poor American get out of the car alive!"

”OH GOOD LORD NO! There’s an American in that car? That exploded car? That just blew up? GOOD CHRIST ALMIGHTY POOR MAN HE MUST BE BURNING ALIVE THAT’S AWFUL!”

[6 rtd 3] Mrs Jackson runs out of her front yard, towards the burning American, straight across the ro-

BAM!

Mrs Jackson becomes the third road traffic accident of the evening, and is smashed through the air down the road. [4] But she lands on her face and she’s okay! Kind of! She gets heroically to her knees, and then to her feet, and limps towards the exploded car. In a heart-warming display of solidarity, the driver of the car who just smashed her through the air gets out of his car, and comes to her side, and takes her elbow, and helps her towards the poor burning communist-victim.

They turn and look into each other’s eyes for a second and wrench open the burning hot metal door of the fiery car.

Just then the next car along explodes!

[rtd 2] Mrs Jackson is sliced apart by a flying car door!

[rtd 3] The man who ran her down falls sideways to the ground, clutching a bloodied leg stump!

[1] Mr Chad Jackson, widower, sees the carnage the communists are inflicting on his beloved homeland, and turns to Richard Wensley.

”Communists, you say? Hot damn.”

He runs inside.

”I need to get my shotgun. My shotgun and my boy.”

Jarvis stands there shivering for a moment, mouthing "boom" as the red mist starts to settle. He turns to Edith and nods shakily, a vacant smile on his face.

Seek the young man we were sent to find. Silently, softly, under the sonic cover of exploding cars...

[3] Eventually, Jarvis snaps out of his first taste of bloodfever, and turns away. He slips out of Mitchell’s bedroom as a car explodes outside, and pads down the stairs.

He enters the living room to find Mitchell on the sofa, in front of the TV, with a tray of food on his lap.

”Who are you, buttmunch? And what’s that on your hand?”

Use the distraction from the explosion and fight to sneak into the living room! Then give Mitchell a good boss fight speech about not being a bully and the Power of Yoga!

[3] Before Jarvis can reply that it is indeed Mitchell’s beloved ex-gerbil all over his hand but considerably more all over the bully’s bedroom, Edith sneaks in behind him and replies herself!

”He… is the Palkinator!! Yeah! And I am Deadly Edith, the Yoga Avenger! There are some who call me… the Yogavenger.

We are come to educate you, and to tell you that being a massive douchebag is Bad, and that conversely the Power of Yoga is Good, as well as totally awesome, as will testify your… poor… the poor… No! Yon gerbil deserved it! It had rabies, and said rabies is now spread about your bedroom, and- uh. Um.”

”What? Mom!” shouts Mitchell, ”Who let these- oh god, what’s wrong with you?”

Scale the fence of the bully's house. Then it's okay to vomit profusely. Following that, go find said bully.

[1] Behind the bully’s house, Fisk turns away from the mutilated corpse that he just physically mutilated with the unbridled Power of Mutilation Oh God What Have I Done, and climbs the back yard fence. He pulls himself up, swings his leg up and over, and loses his balance, flopping off and onto the dog kennel right below him, [5vs6] badly winding himself but thankfully not ending up with any large splinters to the crotch. The dog kennel collapses under his weight and he bumps to the ground in a way which, compared to the rest of his descent, could conceivably be called dignified.

Fisk immediately vomits profusely, stopping only when there’s no more clothing to vomit over, and when his dry retching reminds him of the last time he confronted a bully.

Ah yes.

Bullies.

Fisk has work to do. He crawls through a conveniently placed hole and into the target house. He drips through the hallway and through into the living room. There stand Jarvis and Edith, confronting the bully.

”Mom!” shouts Mitchell, ”Who let these- oh god, what’s wrong with you?”

”Uh. Hello? Do you surrender?”

[3] ”Uh. No?”

Just then Mr Chad Jackson rushes into the room, a shotgun in his hand.

”Who the hell are you?”

((I would like to waitlist please. I played the original but brief SM game and it was good fun, one of my dream rtd pitches))