Off to side of the field the blond-chick-in-a-red-bikini starts to give GoatChops CPR, but runs into difficulty when she realises that 1 he doesnt have a jawbone any more....and two he doesnt have a ribcage.

Giving him up for dead she runs in slow motion toward the sunset (which has magically appeared) as the music starts to fade out

"I'll be there--never you fear
I'll be there--forever and always
I'm always here."

DebonedChops stirs fitfully and sets about trying to reopen his bottle of Ye old fusion whiskey with thumb bones, cursing intelligibly


"eagk gagha....feagkka....adgaaeggh......aah....rrrrararar"

Suddenly the fingernail man appears right in front of GH again.

"Stop! This time I just want to talk to you!"

Without looking GH decapitates the specter with one of his throwing disks. The body dissolves into a faint gray mist with a lingering cry of.

"Oh, no. Not again."

GH continues to pound up the field, Linkin Park music blasting through his helmet speakers. Destroying the malevolent spirit hadn't even registered to his higher brain functions.

'Im almost with scoring range!'

Or so he thinks...

End of Line.

GH continues to pound up the field though each step requires slightly more effort as the water begins to rise.

Shadows flicker through the current a few meters in front of him.

a small piece of what is only barely recognisable as part of his own surfboard bumps against his thigh.