You skip off the dusty street, barge through the swinging saloon doors and yodle, "Hello strange world that I dropped to in the middle of my dream! I'm young, I'm a virgin, and I want to try ALL your alcohol!"
*piku piku*
Instantly a nice looking man with five o'clock shadow and bloodshot eyes ushers you to the bar. You gush, "Oh hello nice man....What's your name?" and he mumbles something about Three-Something Willy. Several well-to-do dirt encrusted men "adjust" themselves and sidle closer, an odd look in their beady eyes. Halfway in the middle of tossing back a shotglass of the contents of a bottle labled "Dead bodies and Seaweed", you begin to realize these are, in fact, NOT the Village people. You:
Scare them to death with your psycotic child imitation
Fake your own death. What else is there to do after drinking something like THAT?
Pull on your sock puppet and start taking names, damnit.