“I might be a few hands short, but this certainly isn't something I can't handle on my own...I think,” you say to yourself confidently. “It's just some giant bird that looks like our school mascot and wearing a jersey, of all things,” you mutter quietly, “I wonder if the number 77 on the back is significant, but whatever, I need to get myself ready if I stand any chance at all if I'm going after this thing by myself.” You feel naked as you tiptoe towards the door on the other side of the gym, half-expecting the bird to suddenly burst back through, but you reach it without incident.

Slowly peering the side of your head to put one eye around the corner of the door, the barely lit and eerily quiet hallway lies lifeless before you. You slide into the hallway and then hug the wall as you move towards the offices, taking note of any doors that you can jump through if the need arises. As you pass the men's locker rooms and approach the hallway that leads out of the building on the east side by the offices, you grow increasingly tense at the absence of sound around you. “Maybe it's watching me right now,” you mutter under your breath, afraid of breaking the silence and feeling all the more vulnerable. “Maybe someone has something in the offices that I can use.” The sound of something or other hits the tile floor somewhere near the end of the hallway. You leap into the short hall near the office door. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. Slowly you peer around the corner with one eye. Nothing. “It's either in the offices where I'm going or the women's locker room...hopefully, the latter.”

You tenderly open the office door, glide in like a ghost, and silently close the door behind you, still bearing the thought of the bird being in the offices with you in the forefront of your thoughts. On a whim, you get down on all fours and make your way to the other end of the offices beneath the view of the windows and doors. The other office door is still closed. You breathe a sigh of relief, stand up, and start quietly scavenging the offices for useful items. Among your findings is a whistle, which could at least startle the bird (at least you hope so), and hallelujah, a baseball bat from Baseball Coach Peterson's office. “Now I'm at least a bit more prepared,” you say confidently, giving the bat a few nice swings from side to side. “I'm sure that Coach Peterson won't mind a few dings here and there...or a few ornamental feathers,” you smile to yourself, “it'll add history to it.”

With the whistle hanging from a lanyard around your neck, and a baseball bat gripped firmly in your hands, you quietly exit from the same office door you entered from, feeling that it was more “secure” than using the other one. You feel confident that you may be able to handle the big brute, but as you glance at the exit door to your left, you also feel that there may be safety in numbers.

Make your choice!