A Tight Squeeze

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A Tight Squeeze

As you're exploring Burnbarrel Blvd., you hear a psssst sound coming from a doorway as you pass between a couple of corrugated-tin shanties. You duck into the door to investigate the source of the sound, but rather than the boiling kettle or steam vent you were expecting, you just find a hobo, saying "psssssssst"

"Yes?" you ask, "were you trying to get my attention?"

"Yeah," says the hobo. "I wash."

"You wash? You certain don't look like you wash."

"No, I wuzh I'm slurring and saying 'was,' you see."

"Ah. What do you want?"

"The question, my friend, is what do you want. And the answer is some of this here squeeze. Only 5 nickels a jar."

"Squeeze?" you ask, dubious.

"Yeah. Squeeze. See, what you do is, you take some Sterno, and instead of using it in a chafing dish, you filter it through a bunch of filthy rags until all that's left is the parts of it that won't kill you if you drink it. Well, the parts that probably won't kill you. Whaddya say. Want some?"

(You currently have N hobo nickels.)

Buy some squeeze (5 nickels)

You fork over the nickels, and he ladles some of the squeeze into a jar. Then the two of you spoon for a while before you... turkey baster away.