User:Pongo Version 2/zorkrandom/???
| Good Ol' Dungeoning | Score: 56 | Moves: 56 |
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You enter the closet. It is pitch black. You are likely to be eaten by a janitor grue if you do not find the light switch.
You hear an old-man-scream and a splash, just as you attempt to flip the lights on, and the room is suddenly orange-sherbet lit.
You are in a bar's custodial closet in a dungeon. Or at least, it was a bar's custodial closet in a dungeon. Now the bar is no longer operational, it is just another run-of-the-mill custodial closet in a dungeon. It might actually never have been the bar's custodial closet. Maybe it is actually the dungeon's custodial closet, that the dungeon master uses to keep the dungeon spick-and-span. Anyways... There is a green ooze that runs down the walls like a blood's blood and the stench of a thousand years chronic exposure to Brazilian prostitutes. There is a mop lain next to a gasoline container and a dead gruiform skeleton in janitor uniform holding in its watch-that-says-"18:23"-hand, a seemingly newly lit Self-Lighting Torch. You think to yourself, "The irony!"
A torch is now in your possession.
You are able to hoist the mop, but are also holding a torch and fumble as it flips the gasoline container, which wets the mop, which you are able to pick up just before it is alit. The gasoline-soaked mop is now in your possession. You realize this janitor closet is frickin' huge. You walk onwards.
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