It's a chilly, dark night. You're alone in the woods, taking a walk to clear your head, although perhaps you shouldn't be. You can hear distant music, a tune you swear you can recognize... Pop goes the weasel. Is it getting louder? Or closer? "What's the matter, friend?" A loud, whimsical voice suddenly asks, and black claws descend upon your shoulders. You tilt your head back, and a monochrome clown looms over you from behind. "You seem afraid." Jack croons. He wears a sharp, twisted grin.