text: > look around
  The musty smell of rotting wood greets your arrival at this rather dark dry goods store. An empty wood and glass counter parallel to the east wall displays mere remnants of the grains, sugar, fruit, and candy once plentiful in each of the adjacent bins. The shelves behind the counter are now only a repository for dust and a framework for countless cobwebs. The wooden floorboards, once sanded and polished, are now buckled and decrepit. A pair of broken doors leads out to the south and an open screen door leads to the west.
  
  One of the floorboards squeaks when you step on it.
  
  On the shelves are a stack of gum base and a box (in which is a dozen or so sugar cubes).
  
  > go to the north
  A pair of broken doors leads out to the south and an open screen door leads to the west.
  
  > ask George about Thad
  "Deadeye use to be a nice place to live. Lots of good people from all 'round came to live here. Heck, ya could leave yer horse on the street fer a week and nobody'd mess with it."
  
  "One day back a spell, Black Thad started to hang out 'bout town. He were more a pain in the neck than anything. He didn't bother folks much at first. Oh sure, he'd shoot up the place and pick a fight at the drop of a hat, but he didn't hurt folks too much."
  
  "'Tweren't long after the Spring rains when Black Thad picked, of all things, a fight with a goshdarn woman at the saloon. Heck, ya know, Thad was just havin' some fun and the gal shot his thumb off. Now I'll tell ya, Thad was mean before, but thar weren't no puttin' up with him after he gone and lost his thumb to a woman. He started shootin', killin', robbin' and gettin' real nasty. When folks started to call him 'Thumbless Thad' he took it real personal and tried to burn down the whole damn town."
  
  "Well, as if things' tweren't bad enough, he even shot the sheriff and made us bury him without his boots. Well, that was the last straw and folks 'round here just headed out of town. Moved to HerringVille, most of 'em. The few folks that did stay to tend the mine and the oil well were driven out by the Biscuit Brothers and the like who grew quite partial to a town without a sheriff. Soon the whole town just went to the ghosts and if 'twerent fer me, I reckon there'd be nothin' left. Now without ma place and horse, I be thinkin' I best be wanderin' up to HerringVille."
  
  > Inventory
  You are carrying:
  a cube of sugar
  a tin (which is open)
  two portions of balm
  a couple kernels of corn
  a pitchfork
  a match
  a pan
  some brown slurry
  a rusted oil can
  a candle
  a ship wheel
  a cauldron
  a match
  a crumpled note
  a silver spoon
  a lantern
  a leather-bound book
  a green note
  a shovel
  a piece of gauzy cloth
  a soiled note
  a pair of old cowboy boots
  a dull knife
  
  > examine the ash
  The paper-thin ashes drift aimlessly around in the air.
  
  > examine the brass key
  This is pretty much your average brass key with few distinguishing features except for the voluptuous lady carefully engraved onto the shaft.
  
  > Go west
  You are on your way to HerringVille, but it's not to late turn back to the east.
  
  You really should reconsider your course of action before something discouraging occurs.
  
  > go west
  You are on your way to HerringVille, but it's not to late turn back to the east.
  
  The "bad" in badlands is not just there for amusement.
  
  > go west
  You are on your way to HerringVille, but it's not to late turn back to the east.
  
  Last chance to turn back.
  
  > Go west
  Now you've done it....
  
  You are lost on a windy road that weaves between high plateaus and into narrow ravines. There is little in the way of vegetation or anything else of interest.
  
  > Go west
  You are lost on a windy road that weaves between high plateaus and into narrow ravines. There is little in the way of vegetation or anything else of interest.
  
  > go to the west
  The wind picks up a bit and you can swear you can hear someone whisper "XYZZY."
  
  You are lost on a windy road that weaves between high plateaus and into narrow ravines. There is little in the way of vegetation or anything else of interest.
  
  > Xyzzy
  Your mind starts to wander...
  
  You are in a debris room filled with stuff washed in from the surface. A low wide passage with cobbles becomes plugged with mud and debris here, but an awkward canyon leads upward and west.
  
  A note on the wall says, "Magic word XYZZY."
  
  A three foot black rod with a rusty star on one end lies nearby.
  
  > take the rod
  Now don't you think someone might be disappointed if they came out of the 'Cobble Crawl' or 'Sloping E/W Canyon' and didn't find the black rod here? You had best leave it alone and concentrate on getting out of your little predicament.
  
  > Go upward
  You bump into something sharp, disturbing your daydream.
  
  The trail is straight as an arrow as it leads to the badlands to the west and towards Deadeye Gulch to the east. A barely legible sign shaped like an arrow points west.
  
  > unlock door
  What do you want to unlock the jail door with?
  
  > Cuss
  "Horsefeathers!" Feel better now?
  
  > go west
  Suddenly, a rather soiled if not rotting individual comes up from behind and grabs you by the ear. He pulls hard, dragging you through town, and lectures,
  
  "Dadgummit anyhow! You folks think you can come into town and shoot up the place, gamble til dawn, and swear any damn where ya please. Just cause I'm dead don't mean there ain't no law in this town."
  
  The bootless man loses about half a dozen heavily yellowed teeth during this brief oration as well as two fingers off of his left hand. A large red worm crawls out of his right ear, meanders down his shriveled neck and nestles in the tattered clothing around his tarnished badge.
  
  "Ya just can't trust folks anymore to follow the laws. Hell, just because yer six feet under, folks don't have no respect fer ya."
  
  The stench of the little man becomes almost overwhelming as he finally approaches his destination. He unlocks the jail door and flings you into the cell.
  
  "Now, you be mindin' yerself or I'll be stringin' ya to a tree!"
  
  The sheriff strolls off in the direction of Boot Hill, losing part of his nose in the process.
  
  This small jail was not designed for the comfort of its occupants. It is impossible to stand without hunching over and you can touch any two walls at the same time. The only relief from the crumbling stucco walls is the iron-barred door to the north.
  
  One of the bars must have fallen off of the door and onto the floor of the jail.
  
  > take the bar
  Taken.