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Update #10: I hate nature

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Option C won last week

So as I mentioned last time, Man-Bags made me a deal. If I leapt out of a plane and skydived into a wading pool, they would give me a second or two of air time on their radio station, sweet golden dripping air time, to promote my drink.

Well as of this moment, I am all geared up and sitting in place ready to do my dive, the very dive which, upon completion, will be completed by me, or if depending on wether or not I complete the task, I will not complete as the case may be. It's been a tough 20 minutes training, but they assured me that as long as I tucked and rolled when I hit the ground I would be ok, right up until impact. As they strapped me in, I had a look at the device that would carry me above the clouds.

I hopped into the skyward device and pulled my suitcase of drinks into it. A man soon came around to check I was secured correctly, which consisted mostly of inappropriate touching, and before I knew it we were off. We started racing towards the clouds, which I am sure would of frustrated gravity. Me and gravity were life long friends, and I knew that he hated nothing more than people going against the gravitational pull he had worked so hard to perfect. A hatred that boiled inside him ever since the moon and the sun got cushy jobs which consisted of only 12 hours work a day, while he was stuck creating a pull towards the earth every moment. So as we cruised upwards, I knew he was probably already tanked on half a keg of brew, crying himself into a deep depressive sleep.

Manbags turned to me and pointed at my suitcase. Suddenly he was telling me that I wasn't going to be able to carry it down with me! I tried to explain to him that all my drinks were in that case, but before I could form my argument into an interpretive haiku, he grabbed the suitcase and tore it open. I quickly turned my haiku into a dance, quickening the pace, telling him that I would rather everyone drink the noodle energy drink than have it thrown off the side. ManBags grabbed a few bottles from my suitcase and threw them around to the crew. They all seemed to like the taste of it, which they seemed to have decided to show through a series of sever convulsions upon drinking. Well this can only be good. ManBags swung around, knocking my suitcase out of our sky-travelling device, right into the arms of that bastard gravity. I watched as the suitcase plummeted into a dam which was below us. As apposed to events which earlier had been good, these ones were of a different nature. To be more precise; bad. I turned to ManBags to ask why he had done that, and was faced with a horrific site. :

ManBags, along with the rest of the crew, had turned into pandas! Truly a more horrific fate there could not have been.

And on with the story.

The sky-travel device started to dip, but not like those sherbet dips you get. This was quite different. In this case, we were heading towards the ground, and the load of pandas suddenly set their sites on me. How could this have happened? It seemed like my drink was to blame, but I tasted some, and it didn't effect me. But the taxi driver. After he tasted some, there was something about him that seemed odd after a few minutes:

Now that I think about it, he was a panda too! It appeared as though the longer my drink brewed, the worse the effects it caused increased.

The only reason I wasn't dead by this point was because the pandas had seemed to turn on themselves, tearing the pilot apart. Oh, these weren't normal pandas, they were zombie pandas! And unlike most zombies, these were not interested in obtaining the rights of the fellow man, but instead on killing and eating everything around them. While the tore the poor pilot zombie panda apart, I realised I still had my parachute. I did the only thing I had time to do.

Cry like a school girl

After that, I jumped from the sky-travelling device with my parachute attached firmly to my back. It hadn't actually occurred to me until this point, but I actually had no idea what to do. All I was doing was spinning



Then I kind of stopped spinning


The ground raced towards me, and I fumbled for something to pull. A cord! I yanked on it, and the parachute came flying off my back.

DAMMIT! That was the emergency release cord. I curse the day anyone thought that would come in handy. Still spinning, I managed to grab the edge of the parachute as it fell of my back, and through pure fumbling, managed to pull the rip cord. The parachute shot open, and my fall began to slow.

It was at this point I realised I had let go. Yeah, it sucked. I had slowed my decent a bit, but I was still heading for what looked like a park. I crashed right into one of the trees, which knocked me out cold. Well, not really cold. This was actually quite a hot day, so in fact it knocked me out hot. Or just knocked me out. Whatever. I'm not a weather man.

I'm not sure how long I was out for, but a few hours later I awoke. It was dark by now, and there seemed to be a lot of commotion in the city.

Ok, so that photo might not be 100% correct. But have you ever seen a pissed off zombie panda?! They might as well be a volcano!

This was not the trip I was expecting to have happen to me. I needed to get out of here and back to the farm. Then, through the darkness I could see them.

Pandas! Everywhere! There seemed to be hundreds of them!

The dam my suitcase fell in must of gone to the main water supply! In common occurrence to previous events, this one as well was bad.

So here I am, stuck in this tree, surrounded by a city of zombie-pandas. I need to get out of here, fast.

Should I:

A) Hotwire the car parked on the street, despite the fact I have no idea how to hotwire a car, or drive.
B) Make a run for the subway, using my amazing ability to throw my voice as a distraction
C) Prented to be a tree god and order the Zombie-Pandas to follow my orders
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