Escape? Pfft- Like anyone could escape from this hell. Your life has been reduced to senseless murder. That damn song still rings in your ears; "Don't touch my pizza" repeating in the back of your head. "Something something you touch my pizza you're gonna have to die" is now your personal mantra. And then there's was the "for the hell of it" kills, but you don't need to mention those. Anywho, you notice this cat- with a... Cherry Pop-Tart for a body(?) eating something that looks suspiciously like a pizza. You raise your machete over his head, ready to strike... "IT'S A FUCKING COOKIE!" He brandished the- oh. -The Pop-Tart he'd been eating for a moment, suddenly looking pissed. "LOOK! It's a cookie." He was now turned to you, ears pinned, tail fluffed up, looking like you were about to kill him... Well, you were, to be fair.