You return to the safety of ACT 6 ACT 5 ACT 1. You finally slip out of the fabled peachbirth trance of the jokebollocks, and cease quaking in the foodsandwich throes of the goofjester tongues, stubborn though they were.

Let us never speak of ACT 6 ACT 5 ACT 2 again.

WHAT THE FUCK.

?

JUST.

WHAT.

What what.

NO.