Put the tape back on and study the burger preparation intently.

Against your better judgement, you put the tape back in and continue watching these old men aggressively cooking food. Hours pass as you watch them gorge themselves on barbecued meat and mug the camera.

Their theme song will never leave your head.

The air was cold and the wind was light as he trudged forward through the snow. A slight breeze brought flakes down from the trees above. The smell of applewood and hickory lingered in the air. Murmurs of prayers came from ahead. He knew this was the day.

A dozen Brothers surrounded the smoker. As he approached, they cleared without a sound, and the ground lie bare in front of them. All were shrouded in thick robes and hoods. A sacred event, to be sure, but today was special. He began the rites.

The group broke out into polyphonic overtones. His sleeves fell as he held high a slab of meat – its blood dripping, its scales opalescent in the morning light. After a short silence, he lowered the slab. His brothers applied a dry rub of a dozen herbs and a hundred spices, meticulously gathered and precisely mixed. He gently placed the slab in the smoker and shut the door. Now, their true work began.

“Wow, this tape is really something,” said Gregory. “And they did this every week?” “You bet,” replied Macho Man. “Every Tuesday, new episodes. I remember this episode, actually. Dude in the back got a phone call about the smoker’s extended warranty. Guess whoever recorded this cut it out. No clue what happened to them, the show ended after this.”

You have a feeling you should find out what happened to them.

Nearly an age had passed. The growls from the smoker had long ceased, the glittering in the fumes had died, and the woodchips had all but been exhausted. The brothers grew restless. Had the ritual succeeded? Had they finally done it?

He began to open the door with hesitation. A twinge of fear came over him. “Not since the old times has such a beast been brought to the Smoke,” he thought. “May the gods adjacent forgive us.” And yet, as the door opened, he found his concerns unfounded. It was done. For the first time in a thousand years, the Tunnel Wyrm had been prepared.

After what feels like an eternity, your hypnotic trance is suddenly broken when The Rock, in a fit of rage like you’ve never seen from him before, rips the tape out with his bare hands and crushes it into a fine powder. He didn’t even stop the VCR!

You hide the other tape behind your back without saying a word. Best not to push your luck any further. Besides, something about that footage felt off…

> Suggest that we split up and search the video store and any of the neighboring buildings for anything that might be useful, then meet up at the car in 20 minutes so we can get going.