Continue your tirade

From Thread 1

Undaunted by the change of environment you continue to outline your improvised sonnet for all to hear. Unfortunatly the pathos of your speech seems to strike a particularly unpleasant cord with your cellmate who sends you into a state of unconciousness from which you never return.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • You have died. Your score is 2 out of 600 giving you the rank of "Retarded Lout".