Perfect, let's add that venomous, descyclopedic touch to the next chapter of Pedameo's CYOA:
Scene: "Employment, Hardware, and the Mystique of the Esoteric Cyclist"
You begin your pilgrimage to two computer repair shops.
At the first, they politely kick you out with the classic: "We're not hiring, good luck, brother" (translation: get out of here before I call the police).
At the second, you even have a good chat with the technician, but she asks for references. References! As if werewolves had LinkedIn. You even consider making some up, like:
"Previous boss: Pack Alpha, you can call him, but only on a full moon."
"Experience: 5 years ripping off fomori heads, 2 years unpaid internship."
But you decide to save the idea for the future, because falsifying your resume is a sacred tradition in the human job market.
Then you try the car repair shop. Bad idea. The job consists of being a grease slave 12 hours a day in exchange for a salary that barely covers a dollar. But that's not what you're there for; you're in werewolf-investigator mode. And you're sure that if you told the mechanic this, he'd laugh so hard he'd even charge you for the air in the tire. So, garages: eliminated.
So you're staring at a retro electronics store, philosophizing about what an Atari is and why the hell anyone still uses one. Before your 1-Intelligence brain can go haywire, you notice the reflection of a fat-tire bike slicing through the snow.
Curious, you follow the cyclist to a little house you swore belonged to a psychic, because there's a neon hand glowing in the window like a poster for a mystical porn movie.
Inside: a space crammed with bicycles, parts, a rusty chain, and astrological decor that would make any quantum coach weep with emotion.
After five minutes of trying to figure out if it's a bike shop or an esoteric cult, you finally read the sign: Epicycle Bikes.
The owner looks at you and says:
"Hey, dude."
Simultaneous translation: "Are you going to buy something or are you just going to dirty my floor with that wet dog smell?"
Do you want me to continue this adventure with CYOA-style options (like: 1) Try to look like a customer; 2) Ask for a job; 3) Howl and run away)?