Continue getting your ass kicked.

The thrashing from Josh, the six-three/two hundred pound pituitary case continues.  He is relentless, beating you like a rented mule in front of the entire cafeteria.  Drinks are poured onto you.  Soggy fries are stuffed down your pants.  Through a haze you see Suzy snapping pictures of you with her phone.  But just when you feel the dark comfort of a blackout creeping up on you, the beating stops and a new commotion arises.  You lie there silently, afraid to open your eyes, wondering what's going on.

The End

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