It's the Prohibition Era in America and you're hard up for a speakeasy. Thinking this old building has the hooch, you slip inside only to be met by three sharply dressed skeletons who turn to face you.

"We been tailed! Give 'em the ol' rattle-dazzle, boys!" The skeletons send a hail of bullets your way, but you duck behind some cover. Once the firing stops, the leader approaches. "Alright, 'chu numskull. Get to chatterin'! And you better not rib me the wrong way or you're boned, capisce?"