“OK, so 3 of the bedrooms are a good size, what’s in the 4th bedroom?”
“It’s a little awkward, we’ve put all our furniture down the corridor ready for us to move out. You might not be able to get in. It’s a good room though.”
“That’s not a problem, I’ve got this gun here to help me with heavy lifting.”
screams
“What’s that?”
“We’re sorry, we had to do this. That’s our wayward daughter Emily. She’s yours now.”
“…But…”
“…”
“She looks… Dead”
“Here, take this book too. You must look after her. This book records all her thoughts. It will be opened the day you start to hate her. She must be kept happy.”

Emily scrapes her claws appreciatively down your arm. You push her away and move the furniture back where it was whilst shouting sweet words of fatherly endearment.

The book begins to throb and vibrate whilst the mother turns her head to you with an expression of concerned, loving horror. The book persists until you wake up and find that Marita is calling you at the horrible hour of 12:30AM.

This is what I dream about when I play Half Life 2 and look for houses in the same day, apparently.

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