Riley woke to what could be described as jazz. The clear notes of saxophone rang out over the cheers of an audience. Opening his eyes, they slowly adjusted to the dark. He seemed to be in some kind of basement where a jazz performance was taking place.

  Then he rotated.

  Ah, Riley thought. He was duct-taped to a spit being held uover a fire. A large frog wearing a chef’s hat was slowly spinning the spit, licking its lips with its large tongue. It was easily Riley’s height, the massive yellow eyes staring into him. Appraisal.

  Level 4? I can’t fight that! In desperation, Riley opened his status.

  “What the fuck,” whispered Ala. “41 in Cuteness?”

  Ala was hooked on the end of a fishing rod being dangled over the same fire.

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  Riley glared at him. “How are we going to get out?” he said. “This is all your fault,” he muttered, conveniently blaming everything on Ala and adjusting his memories accordingly.

  “My fault?! Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I was looking through your achievements, and I found a couple items to help you out. Open your Inventory.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “I swear to fucking—“

  Quickly, so as to not invite any more curse words from Ala, Riley appraised the items.

  “Quick!” hissed Ala. “We have no time! Use the Equip command!”

  “But…” trailed Riley. “This Red Riding Hood thing…”

  “What?”

  “Won’t it look like women’s clothing?”

  “I… You can’t afford to be picky! Do you see the stats this thing gives?! Besides, the concept of certain types of clothing belonging to certain genders is an outdated concept belonging to an older time!”

  Riley mulled that over in his head. Sure, he didn’t want to cross-dress. But at the same time, he didn’t really want to die, and cross-dressing was probably just a social construct. It wasn’t like he was going to start liking it anyways, so it was safe to just put it on for now.

  “Equip,” commanded Riley.

  Around his shoulders, a short red cloak sprang into being. A small button kept it wrapped around him, which was engraved with the words fuck you, world.

  His dirty blue Nikes were replaced by red ones, with a white racing stripe down the middle.

  Riley blinked as a new screen popped up, inches from his face.

  Riley ripped himself free of his bonds with a slight tug. “Time to fuck up these motherfuckers.”