“Alright!” says Mary, walking around the circle. “Townspeople go to sleep.” The Illies and Goose duck their heads into their hands.

“Two taps is Darth, one tap is Luke Skywalker,” says Mary firmly.

“What’s seven taps?” asks Goose.

“You get to be Luke Skywalker’s dog,” replies India, her voice entirely serious.

“Ooh…Can I be a golden retriever?”

“Nope. You have to be a miniature schnauzer,” she states matter-of factly.

“Dangit! Wait…what kind of dog is that?”

...

“I mean, is it puntable?”

“What?”

“Is it puntable?”

“Um, I guess.”

“Darn. I don’t like small dogs. Do I get to throw myself off a cliff?”

“Yes, this is allowed.”

“Sweet!”

“Townspeople, wake up!” calls Mary finally, cutting through the giggles of the Illies. Distantly, Gooster crows.

Several games later (Kara dying in each round), the Illies found themselves back on the march, swatting mosquitoes with an Amazon-like ferocity. There’s nothing like a game of Mafia atop a spotted lake to lift your spirits. I highly suggest you try it.