You gotta know when to hold 'em. Know when

You gotta know when to hold 'em. Know when to fold 'em. Know when to walk away.

And know when to run. The Gambler taught me well, and this was definitely a time to run. I was holdin' the black aces & eights. Snydley was fingering his belt & elbowed Mungo

in the cosloppus. I yelled "Holy Shoot! It's Bow-legged Betty!", pointed at the stairs, and ran through the swingin doors. I could hear a swarm of angry drunken cowboys behind me

ncia. It was the mind of mencia that had teleported himself to the Old West. He'd tried his stand up in the Greeley's Saloon in Tombstone and the drunken cowboys

were so drunk they actually found stand-up comedy funny! Stand-up is the lowest form of humor, and it takes a LOT to cowboys drunk enough for that. But all Saloons come to an end.

This was true even of the Saloon at the End of the Universe. All of the intergalactic oligarchs met here -- they were the only ones who could afford it -- to get hammered and watch

re-runs of the universe's best sit-coms. With guffaws in every sound imaginable filling the 4D space, the Saloon at the End of the Universe overcame its morbid situation and

and walls around them began cracking open with bright white light spreading all over blinding the sights of everyone standing close to it and shattering everything to smithereens.

If you stand around and let the light overtake you, hoping to survive, press F5. If you futilely attempt to flee the fastest known phenomenon, press Alt-F4.