You’ve been attacked by a Spam Witch! You look into this seductive creature’s eyes and feel as if she can make your sword longer, your bank account bigger, your waist smaller, and show you the secret habits of barnyard animals. You fight to resist her charms… and she gets the jump on you.
She offers you a million meat (which she embezzled from the Council of Loathing) if you’ll hit yourself in the head. You do. Ouch! Ooof! Ow!
You call forth a Minor Ray of Firewalls. A wall of fire sweeps across the battlefield, burning the witch like she was made of wood (or possibly a duck). BAM! ZAP! ZORCH!
You win the Fight!
“Now… tell me where the Plot Device is!” you shout at the ashes of the witch. They don’t respond. Maybe you should ask questions first, then immolate. Even though immolation is the sincerest form of flattery.
What’ll ya have?