“It was never about the jetpack, man,” the Truth-Turkey gobbled, flapping its wings. “It was about the tryptophan. The great sleep. The eternal nap of consciousness.”
“CJ, what the hell?” Sweet’s voice crackled over the cell phone. “I just tried to buy a Sprunk from the machine, and a turkey tried to tax me. A whole flock just took over the Pizza Stack. They’re using the dough rollers as a treadmill.” gta san andreas turkey mod
When CJ opened his eyes, he was back on his couch. The beer was warm. The sun was setting. Sweet was yelling about his car. “It was never about the jetpack, man,” the
CJ dove behind the couch as the Big Smoke-Turkey unloaded a clip into his grandmother’s portrait. CJ scrambled out the back window, landing in the alley. The entire city had gone feral. A flock of police turkeys—wearing tiny aviator sunglasses and riot shields—were attempting to arrest a flock of Vagos turkeys for urinating on a wall. A news helicopter circled overhead, piloted by a turkey wearing a blonde wig, who was reporting in frantic gobbles. The eternal nap of consciousness
The mission log on CJ’s HUD updated.