|Nondescript Room||Score: 0||Moves: 1|
"Hello there, Grue. Please do not eat me, I would like to be your friend."
The Grue looks at you thoughtfully, a small bit of drool dripping off its sharp fangs.
"Umm..." you say nervously, backing away a step, "good Grue... good Grue... "
This last sentence was a mistake, for the simple reason that a good Grue eats everything living in sight. What you wanted was a bad Grue, that thinks it's supposed to sing campfire songs.
The Grue rips you into 69,105 pieces, sending blood and chunks of flesh flying everywhere. It growls a little, then eats the pieces.
Except for your left pinky toe. A mouse ran away with that when the Grue was busy gnawing on the remains of your head.
It is safe to assume that...