You suck down the creature’s bright orange insides. As you slowly perform the breaststroke, you make sure to breathe in those helpful air pockets. Eventually, you claw your way to freedom.

However, you are insanely drunk. The alcohol concentration on this goo cube is unfathomable, even in a world where tentacled eyeball creatures try to kill you. A concerned cleric kneels over your slimy body, asking if you’re hurt.

“I know we jus’ met,” you stammer, “but you gotta admit… there’s a connection here. I mean… because… uh, wassaaaaaaaap–*”

You vomit, then pass out, then vomit a little while passed out. Ten years from now, you will celebrate a decade of sobriety. Because you don’t need to drink your enemy’s mucus to have a good time!

THE END