"IT'S CHICKEN NOODLE, YOU FREAKISH BASTARD WHORE!" you shriek, hurling your still mostly-full bowl of soup at your animatronic antagonist. It catches him right between the eyes, drenching his face with broth. Suddenly, as your rage subsides, you realize that antagonizing a creature the size of your average vacation liner, animatronic or not, was probably a bad idea. "Falcor," you stammer, "I'm — look, I'm sorry about the soup, it's just — you know, it's been a rough day for me, what with my uncle dying and all, and... hey, are you OK?"

You notice that Falcor's very quiet and still all of a sudden. Even his spastic blinking has stopped. "Hey? Hey Falcor?" Oh, great. He's shorted out. NOW how are you gonna get to the will reading? Just then, you notice something that smells like burning plastic...

Oh Sweet Christ on a Loveseat, he just burst into six-foot flames! Time to ditch this diner! OK, so you can't go out the way you came in, because he's still only partway thru the door. Out the fire exit, then! Wait, it won't open! Apparently Falcor's gigantic body is somehow blocking that from the outside! You're trapped in a blazing inferno! As you lie gasping for oxygen on the floor of the diner, you think to yourself, "At least I don't have to listen to any more of his stupid jokes..."

HOPEFULLY, THEY'LL GIVE YOU A SOUP-PROOF DRAGON NEXT TIME!
YOU DEAD!