Don't Blink

So ever since the crash, I’ve been using a heating pad—first for my banged-up self, then because it seemed the chestburster hated fire, and now because of this plague. Also, largely due to the entertainment factor. The thing is positively covered with the direst possible warnings for misusing the product. It’s like you thought you were buying a heating pad, when in fact you were becoming the unwitting custodian of a cursed force beyond the imagination of man:

Do not sit on heat pad. Do not lie on heat pad. Do not touch heat pad without heavy gloves. Do not fall asleep near heat pad. Keep eyes on heat pad at all times. Do not turn heat pad on. Do not plug heat pad in. Store heat pad in a lead-lined casket, carved with ancient Atlantean power-containment symbols, sealed with the Four Keys Of Gra’angol. Cast the four keys into the four oceans. Bury casket deep within the Earth. Spend the rest of your days warning adventurers not to seek out the casket, for fear they might open it and unleash its unholy power upon an unsuspecting world.

Y’know, that sort of thing.

Man, I gotta get my energy back soon. If a heating pad is the most interesting thing I’ve found today, you know I’m in trouble.