SpaceBass: Europe 2004
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While Roger writhed around on the ground (technically, the bridge) in pain, pieces of broken sunglasses embedded in his forehead, I gazed around and happily spotted a church across the river.

"Look!" I said to Roger, "A church! Maybe Gott can help you!" Roger glared at me and bled a little, but he eventually dragged himself up and followed me across the bridge.

  Click to Enlarge
Click to Enlarge  

It was there that we prayed, and lo! Roger's shades were fixed, and his cuts were healed, and I found five Euros in the grass. Sadly, the German Gott did not allow us to retain any evidence of these miracles. But they really, really happened, I swear. You can tell from the picture that this was no ordinary church. No, there was definitely magic in the air, mixed in with the cloying scent of dog poo.

High on the heady fumes of religion, we continued onward, until we came to a barrier that we could not pass. A stern face gazed down upon us and bade us to identify ourselves.

"This is Roger," I said, "And I? I am he who commandeth you to let us pass through thy gate, there to steal the riches that lie within!"

  Click to Enlarge

"Who the hell are you talking to?!" said Roger.

I pointed mutely at the guardian, that bleak visage with its gaze still fixed upon us.

"Dude, that's like a cement decoration," Roger said. "You know it's not really alive, right?"

I pointed again at the guardian, and grunted grumpily.

"Let's just go find something to drink," said Roger. And lo! There was much rejoicing, the stupid stone face already long forgotten.

It really did talk to me though. Seriously.

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