text: [Themes: Western, Comedy, western, strong NPCs]
  
  > Look around
  The small jail cell is brick on three sides, metal bars on the other, with a tightly locked gate. A small window is set into the brickwork above your head. Through the jail bars you can see the sheriff's office.
  
  A broken stool lies on the floor.
  
  Muddy leans against the wall tapping a harmonica on his arm.
  
  In the corner of the cell, a disheveled man in a black suit is stretched out on a crude wooden bench and is snoring loudly, oblivious to your presence.
  
  A dented food bowl sits on the office floor, only a few feet from the jail bars.
  
  In the office you can also see the deputy.
  
  > Chew tobacco
  (first sticking some in your maw)
  The tobacco is getting juicy and soft.
  
  > ask the deputy about stool
  The deputy looks annoyed, but says, "Yeah, go ahead, try it out."
  
  Muddy rubs up and down against the brick wall, scratching an itch.
  
  > look at the wall
  The jailhouse walls are made of brightly painted white bricks. The bricks still smell like fresh paint.
  
  > examine the stool
  A small stool, with legs a couple of feet long. It's three-legged by design, but two-legged in practice, hence its inability to stand upright. There's an empty socket where the third leg should be. All of the paint has been worn off the seat by your illustrious predecessors who inhabited this cell. Those same occupants carved every square inch of the stool's seat with their initials (and the initials look intriguing!)  A small bronze plate has been nailed to the bottom of the stool.
  
  Pastor Pete curls up into a ball, muttering to himself.
  
  > touch the bricks
  The walls feel rough and a little bit powdery.
  
  In the office, the deputy pokes his head out of the office and yells at some passersby.
  
  > look at the bench
  A long wooden bench made of rough, splintery planks. Under the bench, you notice a piece of questionable meat, a spoon and a metallic can.
  
  Muddy pats down his wild hair but only makes it worse.
  
  > TAKE MEAT, SPOON, CAN
  meat: Yuck. You are holding the rancid meat.
  
  Fetched.
  
  spoon: Fetched.
  
  can of beans: Fetched.
  
  A cockroach scuttles by, making a detour around Muddy. Cockroaches have noses, you figure (not that you smell all that flowery neither).
  
  > look at the can
  A closed metal can labeled "BEANS". On the back, some fine print says, "Precooked beans. No claim is made regarding the cardioprotective nature of this product. May cause abdominal distension if ingested. No fitness of purpose is implied. No warranty is provided for personal or other injury, or injury or loss related directly or indirectly to the use of this product. By opening this can, you agree to the terms of service posted in town."
  
  Muddy rubs his eyes, "I didn't get a good night's sleep last night either. I'm bushed."
  
  > Inventory
  You're carrying a can of beans, a spoon, a hunk of meat, a tin, a pamphlet, your pocketwatch, and a scrap of paper. You are wearing your hat, pants, overcoat, left boot, and right boot.
  
  > ask Jimbo about the padlock
  There ain't no reply.
  
  Muddy cracks his knuckles loudly.
  
  > examine the spoon
  A bent old spoon.
  
  Pastor Pete bounces from wall to wall. He exclaims, "The ENVELOPE of KNOWLEDGE is sealed with the WAX of PRIDE and impressed by the unwieldy RING of TWISTED ASPIRATIONS, but did anyone remember to put the LETTER of CIVILITY in the envelope? Does the envelope bear the STAMP of HUMILITY, or is it sent cash on delivery? Shall it thusly come to pass that FATE arrives one day in our letter boxes, and we find ourselves searching and shuffling through piles and piles of ADVERTISING, only to find a bill for a life of sinfulness? No! Not if we are quick-witted and change our addresses or even our names, and leave no forwarding instructions and nail shut our letter box, and saw it down, and cast it in a tall VOLCANO and watch it sink into the sulfurous lava. Yea! That might just work!"
  
  Pastor Pete falls onto the bench and falls back to sleep immediately.
  
  > wake pete
  Suddenly, Pastor Pete leaps up and rants, "The desires of an earthly PRINCE are met not by gold or myrrh or power over his enemies, but by HERRING. Salted, preserved herring from a can. Kippered Herring. Sweet, sweet, kippered herring. Who could desire more? Indeed, after a few, who could desire more KIPPERED herring, at least for a little while, having filled up on the first tin of them? They're indeed salty, harmless to you and me, but for a SLUG or snail, lethal. This is part of the divine wisdom, and why herrings live in the sea (prior to being canned) and slugs do not (and are, therefore, unlikely to be canned). To argue with this is sheer madness". He then collapses on the bench again and falls fast asleep.
  
  Over in the office, the sheriff's invention ticks like a clock.
  
  > ask Jimbo about the invention
  The deputy looks annoyed, but says, "Sheriff Cheney done rigged up that machine and the steam whistle, both of them run off that steam boiler stove. Near as I can tell, the machine makes coffee, but oh, what fine coffee it do make. I can't as much as figure, though, how he's paying for all the inventing he does. Well, I guess sheriffs is paid more than deputies is."
  
  Halfway between the door to the outside and your jail cell, the boiler rumbles for a moment and then stops.
  
  > sit on the stool
  The deputy folds down the warrant he is reading and smiles encouragingly, "Please, go ahead. The stool is stronger than it looks."
  
  You carefully climb onto the precariously balanced two-legged stool and subsequently find yourself face down on the dusty jail floor. Muddy helps you up and brushes you off.
  
  The deputy laughs himself hoarse. "I declare, that were powerful entertaining!" The deputy continues to chuckle to himself, even as he turns back to his newspaper, "I said, please go ahead, and he sits on it. That were rich. Maybe he'll try again."
  
  On the other side of the jail bars in the office, the deputy watches you with a bored expression.
  
  > examine the boiler
  Midway between the jail cell and the door to the sheriff's office stands a pot-bellied inferno. Through a small grate on its front, you can see flames burning within. Above the combustion chamber, there is a round, rivet-studded ball, which in turn leads into a junction. One pipe runs sideways to the bronze machine behind the desk, while the main pipe runs straight up through the roof. There is a lever at the junction which looks like it could swing either towards the front door or towards the rear of the office. Right now, it is nearer to neither position.
  
  > examine the bowl
  A beat-up mining pan full of dents and scratch marks. The bowl seems to be nailed (yes, nailed!) to the office floor.
  
  > examine the lever
  A swinging metal arm that pivots on the pipe junction. The arm can swing towards either the door or the back of the office. Right now, it is nearer to neither position.
  
  Muddy burps loudly and remarks, "Oh, that's much better."
  
  > Examine watch
  It's the wind-up timepiece you received when you were commissioned as an officer in the Confederate Army. It is some small consolation that your jailers were so incompetent as to overlook your one treasure. It currently reads three minutes past eight in the evening  -- less than twelve hours until you and Muddy are looking all so peaceful and serene.
  
  Muddy strokes his whiskers.
  
  > throw the tin at the lever
  You can ASK someone ABOUT something or SHOW something TO someone.
  
  Pastor Pete rolls back and forth on the bench.
  
  > ask muddy about lever
  Muddy replies, "I don't rightly know."
  
  Muddy rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet.
  
  > give the tin to muddy
  Muddy glances at the tin and says, "I ain't got no idea what I'd do with a tin. No thanks."
  
  Over in the office, the deputy inspects his LeMat revolver lovingly.
  
  > look at the window
  Pretty far up on the wall, as wide as your shoulders, and secured by four vertical iron rods as thick as your thumb. And you have thick thumbs. The green tip of a vine pokes in from outside and lies on the narrow window sill.
  
  On the other side of the jail bars in the office, the deputy peeks through the jail cell window at the saloon across the street. It's clear he'd rather be there.
  
  > look at the vine
  Only the leafless tip of a wiry vine pokes into the cell through the window.
  
  Over in the office, the deputy warms his hands near the boiler.
  
  > pull vine
  You yank on the wiry vine and it yanks back. It's too tough to break off. From outside the window, you hear the bulk of the plant rustling as it swings back and forth.
  
  In the office, the deputy repeatedly counts his fingers, but is unable to get a firm answer.
  
  > pull the vine
  You yank on the wiry vine and it yanks back. It's too tough to break off. From outside the window, you hear the bulk of the plant rustling as it swings back and forth.
  
  > examine the meat
  The deputy has been watching you and he smiles sardonically. "I see you found your dinner. Or was that last week's dinner? Har, har!"
  
  You are distracted by his comment and forget what you were doing.
  
  > put the meat in bowl
  You can reach through the bars, but not far enough to touch the food bowl.
  
  Back in the office, the deputy makes you nervous as he waves his gun back and forth, jerking the barrel up and shaping the words "Pow! Pow!" with his lips.
  
  > ask the deputy about the saloon
  The deputy looks annoyed, but says, "I get my best work done there."
  
  Muddy seems lost in thought.
  
  > examine the left boot
  A cowhide boot that has been rubbed smooth. The heel is worn-down, and the spurs have broken clear off.
  
  > examine right boot
  A cowhide boot that has been rubbed smooth. A metal riding spur is about ready to fall off the worn-down heel.
  
  Over in the office, the bronze machine ticks like a clock.
  
  > examine the vine
  Only the leafless tip of a wiry vine pokes into the cell through the window.
  
  In the office, the deputy pokes his head out of the office and yells at some passersby.
  
  Only the leafless tip of a wiry vine pokes into the cell through the window.
  
  Muddy spends some time looking over at the machine in the office.
  
  > cut the vine with the spur
  That don't work none. What kind of crazy talk is you up to?
  
  > give the spur to muddy
  Muddy glances at the spur and says, "I ain't got no idea what I'd do with a spur. No thanks."
  
  Just to the side of the desk, the boiler gurgles and bubbles quietly.
  
  > open the beans with the spur
  Muddy cranes his neck to see what you're doing. He's never seen someone open a can with heel spurs. You slide the spur into the groove along the top of the can, and wiggle it back and forth. The can revolves, and the lid is nearly sawn off. It is hard to tell which of you is more surprised that this worked.
  
  Over in the office, the deputy sniffles loudly and wipes his nose on his sleeve.
  
  > check your inventory
  You're carrying a spur, a can of beans, a spoon, a hunk of meat, a tin, a pamphlet, your pocketwatch, and a scrap of paper. You are wearing your hat, pants, overcoat, left boot, and right boot.
  
  On the other side of the jail bars in the office, the deputy inspects his LeMat revolver lovingly.
  
  > examine the beans
  An open metal can labeled "BEANS". The can is full of plump, glistening, little beans. On the back, some fine print says, "Precooked beans. No claim is made regarding the cardioprotective nature of this product. May cause abdominal distension if ingested. No fitness of purpose is implied. No warranty is provided for personal or other injury, or injury or loss related directly or indirectly to the use of this product. By opening this can, you agree to the terms of service posted in town."
  
  Pastor Pete sits bolt upright, howls at the moon, and flips back over, fast asleep.
  
  > eat the beans
  When you were a child, you remember visiting your cousins, who all liked beans. Your aunt insisted that if they could eat beans, so could you. You choked on them, and coughed them up, and they made fun of you. Since then, you don't even like the way they smell. The beans, that is. Actually, your cousins are kind of rank too.
  
  Nonetheless, your stomach is growling and you could do with a meal.
  
  [You have dealt with a repressed childhood memory in a constructive manner, your score just went up by two points]
  
  Pastor Pete pedals the air with his feet, while making sounds like a ringing bell.
  
  > pull the bars
  The deputy looks up from the warrant, annoyed at the distraction. "Them jail bars is solid iron, boys. Now stop messing with them. I would surely hate to have to shoot you tonight and ruin tomorrow's hanging."
  
  > look in the can
  The can of beans is empty.
  
  Over in the office, the deputy warms his hands near the boiler.
  
  > ask the deputy about the coffee
  The deputy looks annoyed, but says, "Nothing is as good as the coffee that comes out of the sheriff's machine."
  
  Muddy looks around the sheriff's office.
  
  > ask the deputy about the machine
  The deputy looks annoyed, but says, "Sheriff Cheney done rigged up that machine and the steam whistle, both of them run off that steam boiler stove. Near as I can tell, the machine makes coffee, but oh, what fine coffee it do make. I can't as much as figure, though, how he's paying for all the inventing he does. Well, I guess sheriffs is paid more than deputies is."
  
  Pastor Pete spins in the air. He yells, "The SUN ariseth, the MOON setteth and the leaves, they do in a chaotic manner blow themselves around and around, presuming it is the time of the year for them to do so, and that the weather has cooperated. The latter pertaining to the leaves, and not so much to the sun and moon, which are independent of the WEATHER, except in so far as being observable only when the weather permits. So, it seems that the weather itself is somewhat a culprit in these matters, but what will a brisk rainstorm do against the fiery, hot flames of eternal damnation? STEAM. Yes, steam. Because it's not so much the heat, it's the HUMIDITY. Back on your heads, my lads!"
  
  Pastor Pete crumples onto the bench and is soon lost in dreams again.
  
  > look in the can
  The can of beans is empty.
  
  > eat the beans
  When you were a child, you remember visiting your cousins, who all liked beans. Your aunt insisted that if they could eat beans, so could you. You choked on them, and coughed them up, and they made fun of you. Since then, you don't even like the way they smell. The beans, that is. Actually, your cousins are kind of rank too.
  
  Nonetheless, your stomach is growling and you could do with a meal.
  
  [You have dealt with a repressed childhood memory in a constructive manner, your score just went up by two points]
  
  > put the can in the socket
  Putting the can of beans into the socket don't make a lick of sense. Not likely to fit well anyway.
  
  Not far from your jail cell, the metal contraption puffs some steam into the office.
  
  > examine the ceiling
  The stucco jailhouse ceiling is too high to touch.
  
  Outside, there is a brief cloudburst. The wind comes right behind the rain.
  
  > stand on the bench
  You can't! A pastor is passed out on it. There's no room for you.
  
  In the office, the deputy looks tired.
  
  > look under the bench
  You peek under the bench but don't find anything new.
  
  Back in the office, the deputy stares at Muddy.
  
  > make coffee
  You can reach through the bars, but not far enough to touch <illegal object number 302>.
  
  Pastor Pete murmurs repeatedly, "Kippered herring, please! Kippered herring, please! Kippered herring, please!"
  
  > Examine watch
  It's the wind-up timepiece you received when you were commissioned as an officer in the Confederate Army. It currently reads twenty-four minutes to nine in the evening  -- less than twelve hours until you and Muddy are daid.
  
  > give the beans to muddy
  Muddy takes the can and stares hungrily at the beans.
  
  Even in the most dire situation, Muddy's appetite remains intact. He looks expectantly at you and says, "Rick, got a spoon?"
  
  Muddy rubs his belly and says, "I reckon I could do with a snack right about now."
  
  > give the spoon to muddy
  Muddy cracks a gap-toothed smile and says, "Much obliged," before digging into the can of beans like a miner hot on a fresh gold vein. A couple moments later, he finishes circling the inside of the can with the spoon, trying to get every last drop of bean juice into his mouth. Afterwards, he places the can and spoon on the floor and rubs his stomach with satisfaction.
  
  Muddy has an aura of well-fed contentment.
  
  > Break stool
  You reckon violence usually is the answer, but maybe not just now.
  
  Muddy holds his belly and comments, "Got a bit of indigestion, I does."
  
  > Wait
  Time passes.
  
  Muddy wraps his arms around his belly, and moans softly, "I might have overdone it with them beans."
  
  The deputy looks up from his reading, curious.
  
  > wait for a while
  Time passes.
  
  Muddy doubles over, "Rick, you should get to high ground. I'm feeling a mite bloated after them beans, and I think you know what's coming!"
  
  "Where the Sam Hill do you think I'm going to run to, Muddy? We're locked up in a hoosegow! Deputy, if'n I was you, I would put some distance between Muddy and your nose. "
  
  The Deputy looks concerned, but confused.
  
  > wait for a while
  Time passes.
  
  You hear nothing. The smell nearly knocks you out. Vision fades, the room spins.
  
  Muddy whispers in that understated manner of his, "That were a silent but deadly."
  
  > look at Deputy
  Big and strong, but lacking numerically in ancestors.
  
  Suppressing the urge to throw up from the smell, the deputy reaches over to the whiskey bottle and half drains it on his way out the door.
  
  The fragrance gradually improves as the universe cools.
  
  Muddy picks some food from between his teeth.