Fixing Good CYOA

[Corenat Rovarnus]

CE wins the day.

Your lawyer’s eyebrows go up at your desire to both blackmail Getsy Mettleson and carry out his favor. “You’re very ambitious for a man who’s bedridden. I’ll get started on the media threat after I leave. As for the equipment, it’s gonna be all packed into one box about yea big.” He holds his hands out about 3 feet apart. “Make sure you’ve got plenty of space in the car. The box’ll be on the heavy side, but the stuff is also a bit delicate so handle with care. I shouldn’t need to say this, but don’t expose it to extreme temperatures, hot or cold. I can tell my client to have it out to be picked up as early as tomorrow afternoon.”

“As for who’s going pick it up, that’s up to you. Just let me know when you figure that out and I’ll give you the exact location. Or if you change your mind, that’s fine too. You know how to reach me.” Paul takes his leave.

At this point you decide to notify your family of your situation. Half an hour later your hospital room receives three visitors:

First through the door is a teenage boy with a dopey face hobbling in on a pair of crutches: your son, Balter Junior.

Unlike you he doesn’t have a broken leg but has had difficulty walking since birth. “Hi Dad,” he says in his slow and slurred manner. “Whoa, did you turn into a mummy?” he remarks on you being covered in bandages.

Next is a middle aged woman, her plain blue blouse stretched thin around her pregnant belly: Myler Black, your loving wife of two decades.

“Honey? We came as soon as we heard, are you alright?” Her eyes widen as she looks over you, and she holds a hand to her mouth. “Oh my god, what happened to you?”

The last is a tough looking bald man in a police uniform with a bulging belly of his own, though his is due to a steady diet of doughnuts rather than being pregnant. This is Shank Raider, your reliable brother-in-law. “He got hit by a car, Myler, that’s what happened to him.”

Your family crowds around your hospital bed with worry as you tell them the events of today, with some alterations.

Shank shakes his fist in the air. “It’s not in my jurisdiction, but if it were I’d make sure the guy who hit you never saw the light of day again!”
“If there’s anything we can do for you, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask,” Myler says.
“Yeah Dad, we’re here for you!” Balter Junior chimes in.

Anything, hm? Looks like you have three potential candidates to do the pickup right here.

A.sk your wife.
B.alter Junior is up for the task.
C. Shank can take care of it.
D.o it yourself.