[ do we go extra trolly and do one for each cause hey i don’t mind ]

The Doors aren’t too bad. So now we just need a record player.

[ Probably should have thought of that first, huh? Too little, too late. But with all these records just sitting around, there has to be one hidden among the instruments somewhere. They just have to find it. So Jack is shuffling around a bunch of old horns, moving a trombone or a trumpet or something, hell if he knows anything about musical instruments, when the song fades out. He rolls his eyes and breathes a sigh of relief. ]

Thank god that’s over. Now if we could just get out of here...

[ With his back to the screen, he doesn’t notice it’s flickered to life until someone speaks. Even without looking, he knows the man’s face - that ugly mustache, graying hair, bowler hat, snide eyes, and a cigar held between his teeth.

”It’s time these kids learned a lesson.”

He turns slowly to face the screen, lips pursed in anger as he roughly sets the horn back down. What he says next isn’t directed at Albert, or anyone really, but Jack can’t just stand here and say nothing. ]

What the hell is this supposed to be? Some kind of joke?