Resting your head in your hand, you survey your surroundings. Currently, both you and Dynamite are hanging in the playground of your school, a wide open-spaced area with minimal playground equipment. They really needed to give the place an upgrade, in your opinion. The seesaw was broken, and you're pretty sure the rusty swings gave a kid a concussion last month.

In spite of the raging apocalypse, you, Dynamite and Mushroom had been spared of the sight of the infected for the most part. Parasites ran off whenever they saw any of you, something you were eternally grateful for. The only down side was that they had practically wiped out Middle Ring over night, and you were running out of food fast. Meat had gone bad quickly, and Dynamite couldn't survive off of eggs and dry crunchies forever.

THUD! The distant sound of the vending machine falling over grasps your attention. Dynamite strolls over, unceremoniously plopping down numerous bags of chips down onto the bench-table you're sitting down on. They're labeled...

"Schkips!" He says brightly. He hastily grabs one of the Schkips packets, struggling with it for a moment before it pops open.