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Now I Gotta Deal With This Shit

Now I Gotta Deal With This Shit

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Published by Martin Lindberg
The third Choose Your Own Adventure book collectively written by members of the Something Awful forums. All authors are credited at their respective entry.
The third Choose Your Own Adventure book collectively written by members of the Something Awful forums. All authors are credited at their respective entry.

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Published by: Martin Lindberg on Feb 10, 2011
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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07/10/2013

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Now I Gotta Deal With This Shit?
Page 1 (Erenthal)
As soon as you open your eyes, you instantly regret it. Sharp sunlight falls through stained windows,burning indistinct images into your retina. The whole place smells like old vomit, and somewhere,perhaps a deck or so below, loud braying noises can be heard. You clamber to your feet, groaning,while great waves of painful vertigo crash across the tender crenellations of your brain.Ouch, you say out loud, a wholly inadequate expression in the current situation, you belatedlyrealize. Your backs not much better off, having turned into an intricate landscape of pain. What thehell did you sleep on last night? As you turn around, the answer to that question is instantly andgloriously revealed. Spilling out of a trio of hefty wooden iron-shod chests is the most magnificenttreasure you have ever laid eyes on. Thousands of gold coins, gems of various cuts and colours, andother items of inestimable value are piled in foot-high stacks, some of them having been collapsedunder your sleeping form. You barely stifle a laugh, elation rushing through your veins. Youve did it!Not that you ever doubted the enterprise personally, but then again, you cant really blame thosewho did. Nine times out of ten, mysterious treasure maps bought from drunken old sailors are deadends, or worse, mutinies waiting to happen, but this one was the real deal! Looking back, you almostfeel bad for breaking the old mans legs.After straightening your clothes, and strapping on your cutlass that had been carelessly stuck into theframe of the door, you step onto the deck of the
Holey Avenger 
. The stiff breeze feels utterlyrefreshing, the salty tinge on it leaves on your lips as familiar to any sailor as dirt to a farmer. Runningyour hand across the railing, feeling the smooth sun kissed wood, a fierce grin works its way acrossyour face. Spread out across the deck like broken ragdolls are your crew, seemingly in equally badshape as you after last nights festivities.Minding your step as you pass the foul-smelling prone form off first mate Robards, your jubilantmood suddenly overwhelms you and you laugh out loud, a triumphant expression. Let the doubtersand nay-sayers have their say now! Not that there had been many, since you took over as captainfrom your predecessor, captain Guillard. Even he would probably have approved, were he not at thismoment rotting on the bottom of the ocean, your dagger through his one good eye. And now the
Holey Avenger 
was yours, and you wouldnt give her up for any other ship in the Carribean. Thefrigate had character, like all good ships, and that counted for more than you would expect. Sure, alot of that character was mean-spirited and petty, but maybe that was why you got along with her sowell.Still, sailors were a superstitious lot, both when it came to women and ships. The
 Avenger 
had hershare of stories and legends. Like the galley roof that always leaked, even though it was on the firstdeck and well above the water line. Or, you recall, the stories swapped below deck about the ghost
 
of the old ship donkey that haunted the second deck port magazine. And of course, there were thewhispered tales about the door to the number four aft hold that never quite seemed to die down,especially after Wide-Leg Pete claimed to have opened the door at midnight and found himself 
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Youve always found that part a bit implausible though.A panicked shout rouses you from your reverie with the force of a gunshot. Ship ahoy!
Turn to page 33.
Page 33 (Erenthal)
Raising your looking glass, you peer across the waves. In the minutes that passed since the warningshout from the look out, your motley crew had done an admirable job pulling themselves together ina shape that could, if in a charitable mood, be called fighting. Most of them were still too drunk, ortoo hung-over to really appreciate the situation, but that was not necessarily a disadvantage in anyupcoming fight. You had long since learned that a pirates true state of drunkenness is only revealedwhen put to the sharp end of a test, a theory youve come to call Schrödingers drunk after an oldfriend. Unfortunately, when faced with four angry knife-wielding Turks, Bill Schrödinger had finallyfound out that he was, in fact, way too drunk to fight.The other ship finally came close enough for you to see it clearly, even though the thick lenses of your glass, and you swear loudly as you spot the white and red of a Royal Navy flag. Its the
ock 
at 
oo
, you say. Robards looks at you, disbelief written on his face.You sure, capn? Thought we lost him at San Martin, he says. You nod, straining your eyes forconfirmation but deep down in your gut you know youre right. Sir Humphrey Winterbottom, one of the Royal Navys most famous pirate hunters, was, if nothing else, an infuriatingly stubborn man.Well, on further thought, he was also an idiot, blowhard and unrepentant pervert, but infuriatinglystubborn came right after those. Question was, how the hell did he find you? And cant the man justtake no for an answer?A puff of smoke erupts from your pursuer, instantly confirming your suspicions. Were too heavilyloaded to outrun him at this point, capn, Robards interjects, crinkling his already substantiallycrinkled face. Damn him, you think, hes right. With the treasure, plus the loot you took from thatsmall Spanish barque you took a few days ago, you have no real chance of evading your pursuer. Thelist of options is rapidly shrinking with every second that passes.Load the cannons, and prepare for battle, you hiss through closed teeth.As the ships close, men start to die. Cannon balls fly across the shrinking divide, smashing through
 
wood and flesh alike. You hate to admit it, but the
ock 
at 
oo
does have the advantage. With thirtyguns compared to your twenty-four, and the larger crew complement added into the calculation, theend result is not an appealing one. Faster, you bellyaching pieces of whale-shit! you shout as thesweating gun-crews wheel their cannons back into firing position. They fire as one, rocking the shipand sending your ears ringing. Thats better! you call out, barely hearing your own voice above thedin. Then the world turns crimson, as a couple of your gunners simply disappear, turned into bite-sized chunks by a round of grapeshot. A follow up shot of ball smashes three of your starboardcannons into scrap metal. The rest of your gunners scramble into the questionable cover offered bythe railing, bruised and cut by flying pieces of wood and bone. Hes closing in! someone shouts,and you can feel your gut clenching. Winterbottoms intending to board you, you realize, not simplyshoot you to pieces.You delay the inevitable for a little while longer, but finally grappling hooks and lines are thrownacross, and the first redcoats start swarming across. At once, your deck turns into a swirling melee,and the clatter of swords and bayonets fill the air alongside screams of pain and anger. Get the hellof my ship! you shout, shooting a surprised looking marine between the eyes with one of yourflintlocks. Hacking down two more with deft strokes of your cutlass, you pause for a breath.Surveying the scene, youre proud to see that your men seem to have repelled the first assault, themarines and boarding crew of the
ock 
at 
oo
slowly falling back to their own ship to gather theirresolve. If youre going to act, nows the chance. If you press the advantage and counter-board, youmight very well pull it off. Or, you might die horribly as the greater numbers and, unfortunately,training of the enemy crew comes to the fore.On the other hand, you could cut the lines and break free, attempting to disengage. But with theenemy ships speed advantage, that would be futile unless there was something you could head for,like that reef-surrounded island over there. Which, youre pretty sure now that you think about it,wasnt there just two minutes ago. But who are you to spurn mysterious islands in a case like this?DO YOU:Counterboard and attempt to seize the Cockatoo?
Turn to page 23.
 Attempt to disengage and head for the (very convenient) island and the "safety" of its deadly reefs?
Turn to page 285.
Page 23 (Mouser..)
Gritting your teeth , you raise your rapier in the air screaming to the men to rally around you. Nowis our chance, while the cowards retreat to their ship to lick their wounds. Well cross over and giveno mercy! If they arent jumping into the sea to get away from your swords, then there is no man tobe spared. If any of those tea sippers remain alive or are not the sharks afternoon snack when thisbattle is done, then youll be joinin them . You grab a rope, amidst your crews battle cries and

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