'Good luck old friend,' you say to Donald, giving him a friendly chuck on the shoulder. You rummage through your small plastic bag of possesions for a suitable weapon for him to use, but the best you can come up with is a rolled up copy of 'Twinkle,' the comic for girls. With some trepidation Donald steps forward and attempts to swat the monster on the knee with the comic. Less than a second later it has bitten his head off. The poor clown didn't stand a chance. Overcome with greif and remorse you drown in your own tears, and the monster along with you. FIN.