Picture this; you wake up in the desert. A sign down the road says Nevada. Looks like you\'ve just had yourself a nasty time in Vegas.

With only vague memories of your activities the night before, you begin to worry. First off: Why the fuck are you in vegas when all you wanted was a 30ml bottle of space pirate? and second, who are those crazy dudes screaming and chasing you.

You run as fast as you can down the desert road, vultures grabbing at the flesh on your shoulders. You fight them off with your mod, spilling the last couple of millilitres of juice you have left.

Taking cover behind a rock, you realise this shit is really serious, you have just the juice left on your wick. You vape it. That space pirate dream floats away in that cloud of vapour, for the next hit leaves you with the taste of burnt cotton in your lung. What is it that you should do now?

Down the road you spot a diner. Typical Murican diner. Sign says DINER in big neon letters, only half of which are lit. You walk towards this diner, tip toe as you get close. It seems strange, nobody is around.

The handle on the door is rusty and old, with cobwebs dangling from it. It would seem nobody has been here for a long time, except for the noise coming from inside. Hoping these guys are friendly, and also hoping they have some juice for you, you open the door.

All the eyes turn and stare at you. \"Is it really him\" an old lady in the corner croaks.

A middle aged man, who appears to be the proprietor walks round from behind the counter. His badge reads Gaz. He looks you up and down whilst taking a sniff at your hair. The others in the diner are gathering round.

\"It\'s him\" Exclaims Gaz. \"This is the man. The creator. The maker of freedum itself.\"

People started getting excited, nothing like this had happens in these parts for years. The one and only creator of Freedum Syrup was there to visit.

There had been whispers for weeks that the creator was in town. Most of what he created was terrible, that\'s why life was so hard for these people. But once in a while, something special is born.

It\'s about this point you realise, all this really is, is a collection of random shit, stuff that sounded american, with a dash of maple syrup (just \'cause Canadians are nice)