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The Only Ending Where You Actually Die

Wuh oh.

While the Left Flamingo Feint may have won you many a competition back in the old country, it doesn't quite cut the mustard here. There's little time for "shouldas." Within seconds, the blade has cut clean through your wrist, and your mousehand - the cause of your highest highs and your lowest lows, your curse and your blessing - has flopped to the ground. You collapse, geysering blood, while Kristin pounces on the hand. Eager to give her new toy a try, she turns and clicks on Nadav's noggin.

"Nothing. I don't see, hear, or feel a thing," says Kristin, confused.

"I think you need to plug it in," offers Taylor, always the helpful one. "Here, let me." He swipes Nadav's chainsaw and with one swift stroke he slices off Kristin's merely human hand. Without missing a beat, Kristin balances the mousehand atop her stump and goes to click Nadav once more. But as she reaches for his head, the hand slips and tumbles into Taylor's waiting arms.

"Looks as though you're not compatible." he says, matter-o-factly.

"Wait!" croaks Kristin. "All I need is a yard of duct tape!"

"Sorry - someone else want try?"

As loss of blood and shock start taking their toll, the sound of a thousand cultists shouting "Me! Me!" along with the buzz of an overworked saw starts to fade.

"Idiots," you say, as you walk toward the light.