The CB Radio in the corner echoes with an idle static, but something sounds peculiar - it's no noise you've ever heard before. There's something intelligent about it, like it's peering out of the speaker and looking right at you.

You peer out from the diner and see nothing. The further out you gaze, the more dilated the light becomes, leading to an infinite band of seamless white nothing.

You're hitchhiking, with no recollection of how you came to be here. A route with an irregular number has never been a positive sign.

Once upon a clock so high time shatters by her hand A sole survivor of man's crime Last remnant of the land Now I suppose a plot goes here For a maiden with time and free But with no action left to make All that's left's to be. It…

Instrumental track -- imagine if Tool gave up being rock stars to program video game music for the Super Nintendo console.

Alternate name: The Post-Mortem Pitchman We live in an age nowadays where a celebrity can endorse a product or service long after they meet with the proverbial reaper. Has anybody bothered to ask the dead guy if he wants to endorse half…

Alternate name: The Post-Mortem Pitchman We live in an age nowadays where a celebrity can endorse a product or service long after they meet with the proverbial reaper. Has anybody bothered to ask the dead guy if he wants to endorse half…

Well, he has to do something about those nails.

In Memoriam to Phone Tree Survivor #13.

Just your typical chiptunes opening music foreshadowing the imminent arrival of baked goods.