A Case of the Baskets
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As you prowl through the hippy camp, itching and odiferous in your hippy disguise, you see a fellow hippy staggering around with a big basket full of fruit.
"Hey, man, how's it going?" you ask. You don't really care, but you don't want to break cover.
"I don't know, man," the hippy says. "I mean, it's like... you ever... well, sometimes, I give myself the creeps, man. Sometimes, it's like... my ... my mind plays tricks on me, you know? It just all keeps adding up, man."
"Ah," you respond. "I see your problem. It's that basket that you're carrying. It's been totally proven that being in the presence of too much wicker can, like, throw off your aura. Man. If you want, I'll get rid of that thing for you."
The hippies bloodshot eyes light up. "Wow, thanks, man! That's the most unselfish thing anyone's ever done for me. That's so groovy."
You take the basket and skip away. You're lucky the hippy didn't realize his mental anguish was probably caused by breathing copious amounts of herbal smoke. Like the smoke your ten-leaf clover disappears in a puff of.
|You acquire an item: fruit basket|
- Despite the running joke in the Kingdom of various lines of text forcibly refusing to end in a preposition (to the point of immediately rephrasing them), the text of this adventure ends with a sentence fragment which itself ends in a preposition.