Choose Your Own Adventure: Much Ado About the Carthage Richards who Dream of Cleothello’s Midwinter

By Brennen Dickerson

As you come to your senses you realize you are laying on the ground in a forest. You know not how you ended up here, only that you are here. You slowly pull yourself into a seated position. Your head is aching and throbbing. Pulled a real Cassio, eh? You should really know you can't handle your liquor by now. You try to workout where you are exactly. These woods seem familiar but not too familiar. But not too not familiar.
Birds chirp overhead. The midsummer sun beams down through small openings in the trees. What a lovely day. Aside from your raging headache. As you stumble to your feet you hear a noise behind you. Before you stands a small man...well it sort of looks like a man...except it has horns. But it's not a devil. At least, you hope it isn't. You open your mouth to say hello but before you can get the word out you realize this could merely be a side effect of whatever it was you drank last night. Jus then the little man begins to speak.
"Well hello there intrepid adventurer. My name is Puck. What brings you to these woods? Glory? Love? Riches? Fortunately for you, we can provide any of them. Just say the word and I will give you everything your heart desires." You sit there and ponder this for a moment. You consider the fact that this feels extremely rushed, almost like it's for a presentation that cannot last too long. You shrug. What have you got to lose?