Laura and Paul stare at you bleakly. Behind their eyes lurks soul-numbing despair, and you can tell that they are on the brink of going loonie, or even twonie. (This may be spelled "toonie," but my study of Canadian numismatics is regrettably incomplete.)

"Come on, guys," you say encouragingly. "Let's get you home to the good old US of A. Some white bread and a few episodes of Pokemon will buck you right up."

Suddenly a band of Canadians bursts from hiding and takes up a spirited pursuit. You finally halt, panting, in upstate New York. But then, peering back north, Paul wonders, "Where's Laura?"

Go back and rescue her!

It's too dangerous.

Start Again