[long story] [title]When Frog Blast the Vent Core Went Horrible Wrong[/title] [subtitle]Let God Sort Out The Dead[/subtitle] I opened the door and cautiously walked into the small room. Four doors. Four exits. And at each was posted a Bob wearing Green, pistol at the ready. Ha, they can’t fool me. I trained the pistol on the one across the room. BLAM! He crumbled in a pool of red blood. Hmmmm. Quickly, I fired a second shot at the next Bob. He screamed as his chest was ventilated by a round, muddying the floor with his red guts. Darn. This has to be the one. But a third bullet only manages to rip through red flesh, leaving Saint Peter yet another soul he has explain to that Heaven is already full but there was still some room downstairs. Disappointed, I noticed only too late the fourth Bob at my immediate left. “FROG BLAST THE VENT CORE!” he incoherently managed as he rushed forward towards me. Eek! Like the other three Bobs, I didn’t stand a chance. I was splattered with yellow goo, and sent flying back into the hallway I had come from. So, Saint Peter . . . you sure I can’t sleep on the floor? [/long story]