text: [Themes: Horror, America, sexual content, horror, mall, monster girl, occult]
  
  > descend
  There is not an exit that way.
  
  There are exits north to the Record Store, and west, east and south to other corridors of the Mall.
  
  > go to the west
  Mall, First Level, West Edge
  A kind of cave-in has apparently occurred here. While the gate north to the Novel Shoppe has been destroyed (and passage is possible), our path to the west is blocked by an enormous amount of rubble.
  
  Audrey, Gibs, and Casey follow me.
  
  "This is the way out, isn't it?" asks Gibs. I nod, sagely, in the affirmative.
  
  He looks over the mess.
  
  "Look," says Gibs, "Why don't you and Audrey see if you can find any items that we'll need to get past whatever horrors are in store for us on the other side of this wall of junk? I'll start digging away at this and clear a path. Your sissy, atrophied she-muscles won't be able to really help any, Duffy."
  
  > Go north
  You're supposed to be pumped to enter a book store in a mall.
  
  This isn't the case with this one. The novels contained herein are not discounted in terms of their cost, they are discounted, rather, in terms of their quality. A few years back there was a fad in publishing that resulted in the release of a large number of non-fiction books that were little more than paper printouts of 'successful' blog sites. (I say 'successful' in a manner of speaking like that, as in my opinion the only successful blog site is one that ends with
  the webcam suicide of its maintainer.)
  
  El circo de chamuscarse de la retina doesn't stop there.
  Shitty steampunk, trite Lycanthropian romance novels, pre-civilization thrillers featuring cavemen (well, cavepeople) and gimmick dictionaries were all part of the hardcover publishing's switch towards the tactics of pop music the last few years. These outright dolorous genres are fully represented here, making this place more a library or museum than a boutique.
  
  There is an exit to the south.
  
  Nailed to a couple of boards in the far corner of the room is a girl. Sitting on the cross is the crucified girl.
  
  Carelessly discarded on the ground next to the crucified girl is a thick, burgundy text.
  
  Audrey follows me.
  
  > examine girl
  The crucified girl seems to be of mild Hispanic descent. Her features are slightly olive, her hair dark and her eyes stained all the round by blood. She is wearing a torn black tank top, blue bandana with floral print, and sleek pair of tight shorts. Her build is slight -- she is probably about five foot five at most, with slim, athletic legs.
  
  The girl's arms and right leg have been nailed to a makeshift cross, and the cross seems solidly affixed to the western wall. There are cuts and tears elsewhere on her body as well. It is difficult to tell how long she has been dead, but she is not sending off a waft of stench or anything, currently. She looks a lot like a girl that used to work in the paint and housewares store that used to be here in the Mall before they closed. I remember that she was really bright, resourceful, helpful and was working on her four-year degree. I really hope it's not her.
  
  She is dead.
  
  > look at the cross
  The cross runs about six feet high, wide enough for a grown woman to be nailed to and made of some sort of indeterminate wood.
  
  There is a dead girl nailed to it.
  
  Sitting on the cross is the crucified girl.
  
  > remove the girl
  I ease the girl down from the cross and place her on the floor.
  
  > examine the text
  The text has a grooved, sturdy cover, designed out of pressed reed and dyed a rich burgundy. It is about fifteen inches long, nine or ten inches thick.
  
  > get it
  (assuming you mean the aged text)
  Got it.
  
  noyoUreYescasTtheMaSiDelittlefucKsicklittleboy!!! !
  
  > read it
  (assuming you mean the aged text)
  I flip through a few pages, but nothing really catches my eye. I'm sure that some long dead monk or priest who nearly acquired whatever the 14th century version of repetitive motion syndrome in writing this thing is revolving in a European Potter's grave at my disinterest, but the words just seem to roll off my eyeballs in a splash of drama and desperate Calligraphy.
  
  > get the girl
  She's too heavy for me to lift and move around.
  
  > get cross
  I'm carrying too much to take that.
  
  > check your inventory
  I am carrying my glasses (being worn), some socks, the Magic: The Gathering cards, the gaming glove (being worn), Gibs's lacrosse stick, the phone, a pleather purse, Barnaby's Big Gulp drink, and the aged text.
  
  > drop the gulp
  Dropped.
  
  > drop all
  glasses: I can't drop my specs! They are a valuable information-gathering tool!
  socks: Dropped.
  Magic: The Gathering cards: Dropped.
  gaming glove: I will have to take the gaming glove off first. lacrosse stick: Dropped.
  phone: Dropped.
  aged text: Dropped.
  
  > Go south
  Mall, First Level, West Edge
  This area is adjacent to the huge Food Court which is just over to the west. The amount of available light dwindles further, while the density of smoke present is the thickest I've seen yet.
  
  There's paths to the west (into the Food Court) and east (back into the first-floor corridor).
  Gibs and Casey are here.
  
  Audrey follows me.
  
  > Go east
  Mall, First Level, Central Corridor
  This stretch of the Mall hallway is covered with just a bit of rubble. There are clear exits to the west and south. The gate to the Record Store is down to the north.
  
  Audrey follows me.
  
  > Go north
  The gate to the Record Store is down, blocking my path.
  
  > Go north
  I hate going in here, but I have apparently been a patron enough times to notice how peculiar the store is without its overhead fluorescent spotlights. The low light received from outside produces oddly-angled little shadows, albeit (apparently) non-sentient ones.
  
  There are two long rows of shelves along the north-south orient of the store, and a cashier's counter in back.
  Barnaby's Big Gulp drink, a pleather purse, some socks, the Magic: The Gathering cards, Gibs's lacrosse stick, the aged text are here.
  The crucified girl and the phone are here.
  
  Audrey follows me.
  
  > get all
  Big Gulp drink: Taken.
  pleather purse: Taken.
  socks: Taken.
  Magic: The Gathering cards: Taken.
  lacrosse stick: Taken.
  phone: Taken.
  aged text: Got it.
  
  > go east
  Mall, First Level, Central Corridor
  This stretch of the Mall hallway is covered with just a bit of rubble. There are clear exits to the west and south. The gate to the Record Store is down to the north.
  The cross is here.
  
  Audrey follows me.
  
  The spectre arrives from the east.
  
  > look at the spectre
  The spectre is a powerful, intangible, undead spirit consumed with hatred for those with warmth in their souls. Its touch drains an enormous amount of life energy, it is unaffected by silver, 'normal' iron, or cold.
  
  It would be powerless in daylight, but I am obviously several hours away from any such thing. It may be best to just avoid and and not antagonize it.
  
  The spectre heads off to the north.
  
  > call the phone
  [Speaking to Trott on the phone...]
  Just talking to Trott will suffice.
  
  The spectre arrives from the north.
  
  > talk to Trott
  [Speaking to Trott on the phone...]
  Please select one:
  
  (1) "Can you raise the gate of the Record Store for me?"
  
  > 1
  "Hmm," says Trott, "Let me try... argh. I can't. I'm not getting anything to respond in that area."
  
  > Go south
  Mall, First Level, Southern Edge
  I enter the southern-most section of the Mall, and it's as I feared: the Outlet SuperStore has been cemented over, so I won't be able to get to the exit doors that way. (I always arrive through the food court due to how the parking lots are structured.)
  
  There's two stores here that are accessible, however: a party favors store to the east, and then the Bead Store's main competitor -- a candle store, which is to the west.
  
  Audrey follows me.
  
  > Go east
  This store is mostly unfurnished, with a low, bare ceiling, cold floor covered in cheap carpeting, and blankets and rugs thumb-tacked up to hide the peeling wallpaper and crumbling drywall.
  
  The contents of the room are a cluttered mess, as this place seems to be more of a craftsman's think-tank and construction area than pure chamber for commerce like so many other shops in the Mall. There's a workdesk and mirror along the northern wall and a file cabinet across from it. A small window is visible behind some junk, and directly across from the entrance are seven masks attached to the back wall in a proud display. Attached to one of the naked support beams is a disco laser pointer.
  
  Prominently displayed in the center of the room is a reserved, yet sizeable urn.
  Sitting on the workdesk is the blue balloon.
  
  Audrey follows me.
  
  > look at the cabinet
  It's colored a deep beige and stands about as tall as I do. It, like most of the other things in the room, is of cheap construction.
  
  > open it
  (assuming you mean the file cabinet)
  Opened.
  
  > examine it
  (assuming you mean the file cabinet)
  It's colored a deep beige and stands about as tall as I do. It, like most of the other things in the room, is of cheap construction.
  
  > look in it
  (assuming you mean the file cabinet)
  The file cabinet is empty.
  
  > search it
  (assuming you mean the file cabinet)
  I don't find anything.
  
  > examine the desk
  This workdesk is just a worn and cheap table that any office supply store would carry and sell for around sixty bucks.
  Sitting on the workdesk is the blue balloon.
  
  Sitting on the workdesk is the blue balloon.
  
  > get the balloon
  Taken.
  
  > examine it
  (assuming you mean the blue balloon)
  It's colored blue, but the material used is a heavier than I'd expect -- like an expandable metallic bag. It floats in the air about where it's placed, so presumably it's got some helium in it, though a fair amount has leaked out.
  
  > look at the masks
  There's a collection of masks in the Party Store, though many of them valueless, and all of them locked up tight to the wall.
  
  > examine the mirror
  A stylin' and engaging Chortlemaster with great hair is staring back at me.
  
  > examine the window
  This rare window offers a glimpse to what is going on outside. There is a terrible storm along the horizon that is visible from this direction. The clouds right above the mountains are electric with activity. The moon is soft and blurred and red-orange.
  
  I stay for too long a moment and take it all in. The window itself is unbreakable, of course, to fend off thieves, and it's far too small for me to fit through, but I can't deny how strong the feeling is to get on the other side of these walls, to sprint off into the distance until the snow-capped peaks are before me and to just burrow within them and hide until dawn... till some other dawn, days away.
  
  I come back to my senses after a few moments. I'll find another way out.
  
  > get the urn
  Right on.
  
  leAveaLonEthEdEadthEirasHesnoTFORYOULItTleoNe!!!
  
  > turn on the pointer
  Party!! It's a FUN FOR ALL FREE PARTY ZONE! I get down and
  dance! Who doesn't like a rockin' party like this?