To Hell in a Hamper
J. J. Guest
ADRIFT Adrift competition 2003 balloon cover art first person humor Inform 7 kid-friendly male protagonist on Jay Is Games one-room parser silly single room TADS TADS 2 Victorian volcano Xyzzy Awards 2003
Professor Pettibone, eminent Victorian balloonist, has a problem. He can't get it up. His balloon that is. If he can't reach an altitude of 20, 000 feet, and soon, both he and his mysterious travelling companion Hubert Booby will be burned to a cinder by an erupting volcano! But what is Mr. Booby concealing under his overcoat? Do all Ecuadorian peasants have BSc's? And what, in the name of all that's holy, is THE CURSE OF THE BLUE IBIS?
You look at the booby
Hubert is a man of prodigious girth, pasty and unhealthy looking with slicked down hair and beady little eyes that follow me about. He is wearing a large, bulky overcoat and a shapeless felt hat.
You examine the coat
Hubert habitually wears this huge black overcoat. It seems to have been designed with only a small breast pocket, but a larger side pocket has been crudely stitched to the side. The overcoat is bursting at the seams; it is buttoned up but the buttons threaten to pop off under the strain. The occasional slight movement from within the bulk suggest something untoward is going on in there...
You look at the breast pocket
A small pocket on the front of the overcoat. The corner of a handkerchief can be seen poking out of Hubert's breast pocket.
You look at the handkerchief
Hubert is obviously a well brought-up young man, despite his bizarre behaviour, since he always carries a clean handkerchief in his breast pocket.
You take the handkerchief
I take hold of the corner of the handkerchief and tug, whereupon, like some infernal conjuring trick, the one handkerchief is attached to another, and another, until I am holding a huge bundle of coloured handkerchiefs all tied together at the corners. Leave those alone!" protests Hubert, "my Aunt Gertie will be very annoyed when she finds out you've stolen my hankies!"
You throw the hankies
I attempt to throw the string of handkerchiefs over the side, but unbeknown to me Hubert places his foot on the end of it. He hauls them back inside and stuffs them carelessly into the side pocket of his overcoat.
You examine the breast pocket
A small pocket on the front of the overcoat. There's nothing in the breast pocket.
You look at the buttons
Hubert's overcoat is bursting at the seams. It's a wonder the buttons don't pop off under the strain, but looking at them more closely it is evident that he has sewn them on with extremely strong sailmaker's thread.
You throw Hubert
Tempting though it is, I don't think pushing Hubert over the side of the basket is the gentlemanly way of dealing with this problem. (Actually the real reason is that he's far too heavy for me to move!)
You examine the side pocket
A large pocket that seems not to have been part of the coat's original design. Despite Hubert's protestations, I am able to take a quick peek at its contents, which appear to consist of a rubber mallet, a tin box, and a string of handkerchiefs.
You examine the hat
Hubert's hat looks as though it might once have belonged to an admiral, but it has lost much of its shape and the gold brocade is hanging off. When Hubert sees me eyeing his hat he reaches up and clutches the brim protectively. "There's nothing concealed under here, I promise you!" he says.
You take the hat
Hubert clutches the brim protectively. "It's my hat," he squeals, and after much effort you give in to his protests.
You take the handkerchiefs
Taken.
You take all from the side pocket
rubber mallet: Before Hubert has time to react, I snatch the rubber mallet from the side pocket of his coat. "You incorrigible sneak-thief!" he cries, " Scoundrels like you should be thrown in the clink!"
tin box: In spite of Hubert's feeble efforts to stop me, I am able to wrest the tin box from the side pocket of his coat.
Tie handkerchiefs
(to Hubert)
I cannot see much point in doing that.
You look at the tin box
A battered tin box with the words 'sewing kit' painted on its lid.
The sewing kit is closed.
You cut the buttons with the scissors
As soon as Hubert sees me approaching with the scissors he understandably backs away, but in the confines of the balloon I soon have him cornered. His vigorous attempts to fend me off are quite ineffectual.

With a deft movement of the wrist I succeed in cutting through the tough thread that binds each button to the coat. As I do so each button flies off like a speeding bullet, and finally, with a great rending sound the coat bursts open, spilling a multitude of diverse objects onto the floor of the basket! These items consist of a large framed painting, an enormous carpetbag, a bundle of twigs, a boomerang, an ear-trumpet, a toy donkey and a sleeping Saint Bernard dog...
You look at the painting
Goodness knows where on our travels Hubert picked this up; it appears to be an exquisitely detailed still life by Rembrandt of three kittens in a chamber pot.
You take the painting
Taken. "If you damage that," says Hubert, "I shall tell my Aunt Gertie!"
You look at the carpetbag
This is by far the largest example of a carpetbag I have ever seen!
It must contain enough carpet to carpet the Taj Mahal! The carpetbag is closed and locked with a small padlock.
You throw the painting
Without hesitation I fling the painting over the side, thereby consigning that artistic aberration to oblivion. It seems the kindest thing to do.

"You imbecile!" cries Hubert, tearing out great clumps of his hair, "I bought that painting to adorn the walls of my dear Aunt Gertie's drawing room. You'll pay for this!"

Unburdening the balloon of this quite large and heavy object causes a sudden and immediate gain in altitude of seven hundred feet.
You take the bag
The carpetbag is too heavy for me to carry at the moment.
You look at boomerang
Hubert must have picked up this curious artefact when we landed in Australia. I wonder what it does? At the moment it's just weighing down my balloon.
Info
By J. J. Guest

Release Version 1.0

Thanks to: My Brother Dan for inspiration, to Ambrosine and Liz Parnell who beta-tested the original ADRIFT version, and to Dan Shiovitz, Phil Swinbank and Tommy Herbert who beta-tested this TADS 2 version. Thanks also to Stewart J. McAbney for initiating the TADS 2 conversion, and to Mike Roberts, Quintin Stone and everyone else on rec.arts.int-fiction who gave me help and advice.
You examinthe ear-trumpet
An old ear-trumpet made of tin.
You look at the donkey
A large, and very heavy toy donkey wearing a sombrero. Hubert must have picked this up during our brief stopover in Benidorm and smuggled it aboard under his coat!
You examine the dog
Booby must have picked up this enormous hound during our short stopover in Switzerland. It is amazing to consider that he has been carrying it around ever since! The hound is currently sound asleep, lying on his side, exactly as he fell with one ear turned inside out. A small barrel of brandy is attached to the collar around his neck.
You ask Booby about the padlock
That carpetbag is my business," sneers Hubert, "it's not my fault if you're foolish enough to throw out all your own belongings. That lock is there to see you don't get your paws on any more of mine."
You take the trumpet
Taken. "Put that down at once!" cries Hubert.
You throw it
I can see no possible use for the ear-trumpet, so I throw it over the side of the balloon. For some reason Hubert seems to find this amusing. He tries to stifle his laughter but it escapes him as a sort of nasal snort. He bends down to stroke the ears of the St. Bernard.

The equilibrium of a balloon in the air is so sensitive that the loss of an almost insignificant weight can produce a very appreciable displacement. In this instance, the balloon gains around two hundred feet in altitude.
You look at the altimeter
I fling the toy donkey over the side of the balloon and watch as it spirals to Earth. "You maniac!" screams Hubert, wringing his hands and quivering all over like an oversized lemon jelly. "The shopkeeper assured me that donkey was one-of-a-kind!"

Unburdening the balloon of this quite large and heavy object causes a sudden and immediate gain in altitude of seven hundred feet.

The altimeter is currently reading 13,400 feet above sea level. In order to clear the volcano in safety we must reach an altitude of 20,000 feet!
You search the coat
I can now see that the overcoat has an inside pocket. Despite Hubert's protestations, I am able to take a quick peek at its contents, which appear to consist of a hatchet and a cigarette lighter. There are also a couple of objects trapped within the tartan lining, but that is as much as I am able to determine before Hubert succeeds in shoving me away.
You take the hatchet
Hubert is too slow to stop me reaching inside his overcoat to retrieve the hatchet from his inside pocket. I immediately recognise the item as my own!
You take lighter
I reach inside Hubert's overcoat and retrieve the lighter. "Stop! Thief!" yells Hubert, presumably in the hope of attracting the attention of the local constabulary.
You cut the lining with the scissors
I lunge with the scissors, slashing a large rent in the tartan fabric. A colourful vase drops out onto the floor of the basket. "You lunatic!" shrieks Hubert, throwing up his hands in horror, "my Auntie Gertie will have to mend that now!"
You break it
I hit the vase against the side of the basket but it remains resolutely intact. Maybe I should use something to smash it with!
You break the vase with the hatchet
There are surely better tools than a hatchet to break things with!
You look in the vase
It is too dark inside the vase to get any idea of what it might contain.
You hit the vase with the mallet
I hit the vase with the mallet. It shatters most obligingly, revealing a tiny key among the wreckage!

"You maniac!" cries Hubert, "that vase was a present for my Aunt Gertie! I'll never be able to find another one!"
You unlock bag with key
I unlock the carpetbag with the tiny metal key, tossing the padlock over the side of the basket. The bag falls open to reveal, to my astonishment, a pair of underpants, a trombone, and what appears to be an Egyptian mummy still in its original wrappings!
You examine the underpants
A pair of clean Y-fronts, extra large. There is a picture of Sexton Blake on the front!

Hubert picks up the boomerang.
You examine the trombone
A rather battered, but still serviceable trombone. There appears to be something wedged in its funnel.
You look in it
In the trombone I see a whatever it is that's wedged into the funnel.
You take it
Taken. "That doesn't belong to you!" exclaims Hubert.
You play it
The trombone emits an almost inaudible squeak. I fear there may be something wrong with it.
You examine the mummy
The preserved body of an ancient Egyptian, still in its original wrappings. It smells rather musty and something about it gives me the creeps, quite frankly.
You take the underpants
I gingerly remove the pair of underpants from the carpetbag.
You unwrap the mummy
Somewhat hesitantly I begin to peel away the mummy's wrappings. "I shouldn't do that if I were you," says Hubert, "or you'll fall foul of the curse!"
You throw the underpants
I toss the underpants over the side of the balloon. A warm air current sends them floating off into the distance. "You idiot!"
cries Hubert, his eyes wide as coal-holes, "My Aunt Gertie was very insistent that I always have clean underwear - I've been wearing my other pair ever since this infernal trip began!"

The equilibrium of a balloon in the air is so sensitive that the loss of an almost insignificant weight can produce a very appreciable displacement. In this instance, the balloon gains around one hundred feet in altitude.
You ask Booby about Curse
"Oh, it's probably just mumbo-jumbo," says Hubert airily, "but those Egyptian graverobbers who sold me the mummy also told me that anyone who defiled or desecrated the body would fall victim to the Curse of the Blue Ibis. I'm no expert on these things," he continues with an unmistakable air of smugness, "but I rather suspect that hurling the mummy out of a balloon might count as an act of desecration."
You wake dog
I try to rouse the slumbering dog by shaking him violently, but to no avail. Hubert snorts derisively at my efforts. Perhaps a loud noise of some kind might be more effectual.
You put the ear trumpet in the dog
I presume you mean me to put it in the dog's ear...
I put the ear-trumpet in the Saint Bernard's ear. He does not appear to mind, but then he is fast asleep.
Look around
I am in the basket of the balloon, high, though not high enough
above the foothills of the Andes. A strong wind drives us ever closer to the volcano; torrents of molten lava cascading down its sides like rivers of fire! Attached to the ropes that hold the balloon aloft is a brass altimeter, the one and only piece of aeronautical equipment that has not been sacrificed.
I see a carpetbag here. The carpetbag seems to contain a Egyptian mummy.
Hubert Booby stands in the corner of the basket, peering at me suspiciously.
A St. Bernard dog is lying fast asleep on the floor of the basket, oblivious to the drama unfolding before him.
Inventory
I have a string of handkerchiefs, a rubber mallet, a sewing kit, a pair of scissors, a hatchet, a cigarette lighter, a trombone, and a smudge stick. The sewing kit seems to contain a ball of yarn and a needle.
You take the coat
I try to pull the overcoat off over Hubert's head, but only succeed in pulling Hubert over onto his back. "Let go of me, you maniac!" he cries, clambering to his feet.
You examine Hubert
Hubert is a man of prodigious girth, pasty and unhealthy looking with slicked down hair and beady little eyes that follow me about. He is wearing a large, bulky overcoat and a shapeless felt hat. He is carrying a boomerang.
You take the boomerang
After a brief struggle, I manage to wrest it from Hubert's grip. "Put that down at once!" cries Hubert.
You throw the boomerang
I throw the boomerang with all my might. It spins away into the clouds.

The balance between the weight of the balloon and the lift provided by the gas is so delicate that jettisoning even a very light object causes an immediate vertical displacement. In this instance, the balloon gains around three hundred feet in altitude.
You wait for a while
Time passes...
Inventory
I have a string of handkerchiefs, a rubber mallet, a sewing kit, a pair of scissors, a hatchet, a cigarette lighter, a trombone, and a smudge stick. The sewing kit seems to contain a ball of yarn and a needle.
You unwedge the funnel with the scissors
I don't recognize that sentence.

I don't know the word "unwedge".
You put the scissors in the funnel
Done.
You take the scissors
Taken. "Put that down at once!" cries Hubert.
You put the yarn in the needle
If you want me to sew something, just tell me and I'll do it then.
You hit Booby with the mallet
Hubert screams as I near him with the mallet.
You take coat
I try to pull the overcoat off over Hubert's head, but only succeed in pulling Hubert over onto his back. "Let go of me, you maniac!" he cries, clambering to his feet.

There is a strange whistling sound from behind me...

THUD! Much to Hubert's amusement, the boomerang hits me on the back of the head.
You yell in the trumpet
I yell "WAKEY WAKEY!" directly into the ear-trumpet. The dog stirs slightly, its rear paws twitching involuntarily; but still it does not wake. Obviously I need to make an even louder noise...
You look at the trombone
A rather battered, but still serviceable trombone. There appears to be something wedged in its funnel.

There is a strange whistling noise, and a second later a loud crack as the boomerang returns, hitting Hubert on the back of the head. Hubert yelps with pain and the felt hat topples to the floor with a heavy thump. As it hits the floor a large cuckoo clock, which Hubert had been concealing under it, drops out and lands by my feet. The clock immediately begins to chime...
You cut the lining with the scissors
I don't think there are any further items hidden in the lining...

The clock chimes three times. "CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO!"
You examine the clock
A ridiculously ornate carved wooden clock with a small door in the front to allow a wooden bird to pop in and out every quarter of an hour. I fancy it was damaged when I knocked it off Hubert's head, since the cuckoo seems to have gone beserk, and it is quite impossible to read the time since the hands are spinning like dervishes!

The clock chimes five times. "CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO!"
You take the hat
Taken. "Leave that alone!" cries Hubert.
You look in the hat
There's nothing in the shapeless felt hat.

The clock chimes three times. "CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO!"
You throw the hat
I drop the ratty old hat over the side of the basket. As it tumbles away into the clouds, Hubert screams "You imbecile! My great uncle Percy wore that hat during the Charge of the Light Brigade! It was his dying wish that I should wear it every day of my life!"

The equilibrium of a balloon in the air is so sensitive that the loss of an almost insignificant weight can produce a very appreciable displacement. In this instance, the balloon gains around one hundred feet in altitude.

The clock chimes seven times. "CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO!"
You put the clock in the trumpet
I can't put anything into the ear-trumpet.

The clock chimes four times. "CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO!"
You look at the clock
A ridiculously ornate carved wooden clock with a small door in the front to allow a wooden bird to pop in and out every quarter of an hour. I fancy it was damaged when I knocked it off Hubert's head, since the cuckoo seems to have gone beserk, and it is quite impossible to read the time since the hands are spinning like dervishes!

The clock chimes three times. "CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO!"
You throw the clock
I am not carrying the the cuckoo clock.

The clock chimes seven times. "CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO!"
You take the clock
Taken.

The clock chimes three times. "CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO!"
You throw the clock
I hurl the cuckoo clock over the side of the basket. It continues to chime long after it has disappeared into the wreath of thin cloud that hovers below us.

"You maniac!" screams Hubert, shuddering like a Quaker. "That clock was to have adorned the kitchen wall of my dear Aunt Gertie. Its hourly chiming would have reminded her when it was time to make my tea, run my bath and a thousand other duties incumbent upon her as my legal guardian!"

The balance between the weight of the balloon and the lift provided by the gas is so delicate that jettisoning even a very light object causes an immediate vertical displacement. In this instance, the balloon gains around five hundred feet in altitude.
You hit the funnel
What do you want to hit it with?
Mallet
I bash the trombone with the rubber mallet. To my surprise, a cricket ball pops out of the funnel. I must ask Hubert how that got in there...
Blow trombone
I place the trombone to my lips and blow. It emits a few strangulated notes. The St. Bernard, upon hearing this leaps four feet into the air, sending the ear-trumpet flying into space. He seems to be fully alert now!
You take the dog
I throw myself upon the dog, in an effort to cast it over the side of the basket, but he seems to think that we are playing a game, and wriggles free of my grasp.
You take the mummy
I carefully lift the Egyptian mummy from the carpetbag and heave it over my shoulder. "I wouldn't touch that if I were you," says Hubert "it's cursed!"
You drop the mummy
Dropped.
You throw the stick
I toss the smudge stick over the side of the basket. After all I can't imagine what I might have needed it for...

The equilibrium of a balloon in the air is so sensitive that the loss of an almost insignificant weight can produce a very appreciable displacement. In this instance, the balloon gains around one hundred feet in altitude.
You show the ball to the dog
Which ball do you mean, the ball of yarn, or the cricket ball?
You ask Booby about the dog
"He came free with the cuckoo clock." says Hubert. "I'm afraid it is the laziest hound I have ever encountered - nothing but the loudest noise will rouse him."
You look at the dog
Booby must have picked up this enormous hound during our short stopover in Switzerland. It is amazing to consider that he has been carrying it around ever since! The dog is sitting on his haunches, looking up at me through soulful brown eyes. A small barrel of brandy is attached to the collar around his neck.

There is a strange whistling sound from behind me...

THUD! Much to Hubert's amusement, the boomerang hits me on the back of the head.
Examine barrel
The barrel is attached to the dog's collar. There is a small tap on one side allowing me to drink from it.
You take the barrel
Why bother when I can drink the brandy without removing the collar!
You drink the brandy
I help myself to a little of the brandy. Most refreshing!
You drink the brandy
"Do it yourself!" cries Hubert, "I am feeling somewhat fatigued of late. It must be the altitude. Why don't you let some gas out of the balloon?"
You push Hubert
The St. Bernard looks at me blankly. Either it has not been trained to obey commands or it only speaks German.
You ask Booby about blue Ibis
"Oh, it's probably just mumbo-jumbo," says Hubert airily, "but those Egyptian graverobbers who sold me the mummy also told me that anyone who defiled or desecrated the body would fall victim to the Curse of the Blue Ibis. I'm no expert on these things," he continues with an unmistakable air of smugness, "but I rather suspect that hurling the mummy out of a balloon might count as an act of desecration."
You take the mummy
I heave the Egyptian mummy over my shoulder.
You throw the mummy
I heave the mummy over the side of the balloon and watch as it plummets earthwards. As the mummy disappears from sight the sky seems to darken; the light alpine cloud coalesces into forbidding thunder clouds. The ominous silence is broken by a piercing shriek like that of an exotic bird...

"Now you've done it!" cries Hubert, shaking like a leaf and paler than ever, "We're both doomed now. Did I not tell you about...

...THE CURSE OF THE BLUE IBIS?"

Unburdening the balloon of this large, heavy object causes a sudden and immediate gain in altitude of one thousand feet.
You look at the altimeter
The altimeter is currently reading 15,300 feet above sea level. In order to clear the volcano in safety we must reach an altitude of 20,000 feet!

From somewhere towards the east there is a piercing shriek; the shrill cry of some exotic bird!
You look at the bird
The Ibis, an Egyptian wading bird, is said to be the messenger of Osiris, ancient Egyptian god of the dead. To see one flying at an altitude of 15,300 feet above the Ecuadorian Andes is quite, quite incredible; one might even say supernatural...
You examine the bag
This is by far the largest example of a carpetbag I have ever seen!
It must contain enough carpet to carpet the Taj Mahal! The carpetbag is open. There's nothing in the carpetbag.

The Blue Ibis gives a piercing cry as it draws closer and closer to the balloon...
You throw it
I hurl the empty bag over the side of the basket. Hubert merely glares at me for a moment.

The equilibrium of a balloon in the air is so sensitive that the loss of an almost insignificant weight can produce a very appreciable displacement. In this instance, the balloon gains around one hundred feet in altitude.

The Blue Ibis gives a piercing cry as it draws closer and closer to the balloon...
Light smudge
I light the smudge stick with the cigarette lighter, then blow it out, allowing the scented smoke to waft around the balloon. It could be my imagination, but from somewhere I hear the distant sound of drums and a Cherokee medicine man chanting. From above there is a raucous shriek, and I look up to see the Blue Ibis vanish into the sweet smelling smoke like something out of a dream...

Red hot embers fly from the smudge stick...
You throw the stick
I toss the burning smudge stick over the side of the balloon.

The equilibrium of a balloon in the air is so sensitive that the loss of an almost insignificant weight can produce a very appreciable displacement. In this instance, the balloon gains around one hundred feet in altitude.
You look at the altimeter
The altimeter is currently reading 15,800 feet above sea level. In order to clear the volcano in safety we must reach an altitude of 20,000 feet!
You throw lighter
I think I shall hang on to the lighter. It is very light, and one never knows when one might need one.
You examine the trombone
A rather battered, but still serviceable trombone. It now appears to be free of obstructions.
You play the trombone
I have never studied music, but the noise that emits from the instrument when I place it to my lips is not entirely unpleasant. Hubert, who is clutching his ears, seems to be of a different opinion.
You throw it
Having no further use for it, I cast the trombone out of the basket. Hubert merely sighs and rolls his eyes at me.

The balance between the weight of the balloon and the lift provided by the gas is so delicate that jettisoning even a very light object causes an immediate vertical displacement. In this instance, the balloon gains around five hundred feet in altitude.
You look around
I am in the basket of the balloon, high, though not high enough
above the foothills of the Andes. We are now practically on top of the volcano. It is as though we are entering the mouth of hell itself! Attached to the ropes that hold the balloon aloft is a brass altimeter, the one and only piece of aeronautical equipment that has not been sacrificed.
I see a cricket ball here.
Hubert Booby stands in the corner of the basket, peering into
space.
A St. Bernard dog is sitting placidly before me, wagging its tail.
You examine it
A well-worn cricket ball that has obviously seen quite a lot of use.
I was pretty good bowler in my day...
You throw ball at the dog
Which ball do you mean, the ball of yarn, or the cricket ball?
Cricket
I miss.
You take it
Taken. "That doesn't belong to you!" exclaims Hubert.
Bowl
What do you want to throw?
Bowl cricket ball
I throw the cricket ball (overarm, naturally) over the side of the basket, giving it plenty of topspin. It whistles off into the clouds, closely followed by the St. Bernard, which, like any dog, cannot resist chasing a thrown ball. Through a gap in the clouds I see the hapless hound land safely in a snow-drift. At least he will be able to dig himself out.

Unburdening the balloon of this large, heavy object causes a sudden and immediate gain in altitude of one thousand feet.
You throw the mallet
I fling the mallet over the side of the basket. "You lunatic!" yells Hubert, stamping his feet in distraction. 'That was an extremely useful mallet - I used it every day at breakfast to crack open my boiled eggs!"

The balance between the weight of the balloon and the lift provided by the gas is so delicate that jettisoning even a very light object causes an immediate vertical displacement. In this instance, the balloon gains around five hundred feet in altitude.

"THAT DOES IT!" shrieks Hubert, shaking his tiny fists at me in exasperation. "That's the last straw. You've really done it this time. I'm going to tell my Aunt Gertie on you!"

"Oh, and I suppose you have your Aunt Gertie secreted away in that incredible overcoat of yours as well..." I say, mockingly.

"Yes," says Hubert, "as a matter of fact I have. You didn't think I'd leave her at home all on her own, do you?" After much squirming and wriggling, a tiny little old lady emerges from the overcoat.

"What is it, Hubert dear?" she asks...
You look at Aunt
She is a fearsome looking old lady with her hair tied back in a bun and a clean white apron on. She leans on a rather lethal looking cane and carries a bottle of what looks worryingly like castor oil.
You take the cane
"Leave me helpless, would you," crows Aunt Gertie as I go to grab her cane, before hitting me over the head with it. Helpless indeed!
You ask Gertie about Booby
"Hubert's such a good boy. He always washes behind his ears." says Aunt Gertie, smiling at her nephew. "I don't suppose you wash behind your ears, do you?" She subjects my ears to close scrutiny. "No, I didn't think so."
You ask Gertie about Gertie
"For the land's sakes!" cries Aunt Gertie in exasperation.
Inventory
I have a string of handkerchiefs, a sewing kit, a hatchet, a cigarette lighter, a needle, a ball of yarn, and a pair of scissors.
Time is running out! The volcano is so close now that its deafening roar drowns out every sound, and the balloon is bathed in its eerie orange glow!
You give the handkerchiefs to Gertie
I would rather not give the old woman the string of handkerchiefs.
She is rather less of a pushover than her nephew. Whilst she is armed with that stick, I do not fancy my chances of getting them back again.
You give the parachute to Gertie
"You're not getting me up in one of those things!" crows Aunt Gertie. Perhaps a less direct approach would be more successful...
You hit Gertie with the parachute
There are surely more fruitful ways of spending my time than in attacking Aunt Gertie with a parachute.
You wear the parachute
What! And abandon my balloon? Over my dead body! Besides, the parachute has no harness - to wear it one would need to tie it to something one was already wearing.
You tie the parachute to Gertie
I wait 'til her back is turned, and swiftly tie the parachute to her apron strings!
You cut the balloon with the scissors
I am rapidly losing consciousness. Everything is a blur...

My head is spinning like a top...
You examine the balloon
I am rapidly losing consciousness. Everything is a blur...
My head is spinning like a top...
We are now so close to the volcano that its torrid heat can be felt upon our faces. It is a little like sticking one's head in a baker's oven. "Turn this infernal contraption around at once!" shouts Hubert above the roar of the lava flows, "the heat always brings me out in a rash!"
We have very little time - we need to gain more altitude to comfortably clear

the volcano!

I am rapidly losing consciousness. Everything is a blur...
My head is spinning like a top...

Six miles above the earth, and still rising rapidly, I suddenly lose consciousness. It is as though I had simply fallen asleep, but this time I do not wake up...

...If only I had been able to reach the gas valve rope in time!
You climb the rope
I am rapidly losing consciousness. Everything is a blur...
Which rope do you mean, the anchor rope, the ropes, or the gas-valve rope?
You climb the ropes
I am rapidly losing consciousness. Everything is a blur...
My head is spinning like a top...

Six miles above the earth, and still rising rapidly, I suddenly lose consciousness. It is as though I had simply fallen asleep, but this time I do not wake up...

...If only I had been able to reach the gas valve rope in time!
You pulthe gas-valve rope
The last thing I remember before passing out is falling upon the gas valve rope and pulling down on it with all the strength remaining to me...
Excerpt from "To Hell in a Hamper, Travels by Balloon with a Buffoon" by Prof. P. Pettibone, Oxford University Press, 1895.
"...when my senses returned to me the volcano was far behind me. The balloon had come to rest on the slopes of the lower Andes. There I was found, frostbitten and in a state of nervous exhaustion, by a party of llama herdsmen. I had reached 37,000 feet, an altitude heretofore unattained by any balloonist in history, and had lived to tell the tale.

Without the means to replace my supply of hydrogen further travel by balloon was impossible. When I had recovered fully I travelled to Quito by pack horse, and from there arranged passage to England by land and sea. The journey was uneventful, but my trials were not yet over, for soon after my arrival I was called to account for the various transgressions comitted by my travelling companion during our adventures. There was the small matter of a Rembrandt painting stolen from the Louvre the previous year (secreted, no doubt beneath that voluminous overcoat), and the matter of the desecration of an Egyptian tomb, as well as a dozen other infractions of a lesser nature. Fortunately I was able to absolve myself of blame for these crimes, but it was a great shame that Hubert was not around to be held accountable for his actions.

The Rembrandt, fortunately, was not one of his better pieces, owing to a lapse of judgement on the part of the master in his choice of subject matter. It is generally agreed that the great artist's reputation has benefitted, rather than suffered for the loss of "Three Kittens in a Chamber Pot."

The mummy was a different matter however. It turned out to have been the corpse of Imhotep, architect of the Great Pyramid. The Egyptian government were most upset to learn that the builder of their most exalted monument was last seen tumbling towards a hasty reburial on the frozen slopes of the Andes. As I understand it, negotiations between the British, Egyptian and Ecuadorian governments are still ongoing with regard to the mummy's recovery and safe return to its tomb.

As for Hubert and his disagreeable Aunt Gertie, I never saw them again. However, a party of Germans trekking in the foothills of the Andes five years later reported seeing a large fat man and an old woman who lived together in a stone hut with a Saint Bernard dog. According to the Germans, the pair spoke fluent English, but what they said made little sense. She kept muttering something about "clean underwear" and he did nothing all day but lament the loss of a cuckoo clock.
I myself retired from ballooning in 1890, having travelled in nearly every country in the world. I am now dedicated to submarine exploration, in which science I am swiftly becoming the world's foremost authority."

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