
After a lot of fucked up things — all too sad and mean to mention here — you find yourself in the form of the young Pony Rose, a cheerleader in high school. A smoking hot body, the looks of a model, the voice of an angel...
You come around to your senses in the ladies' room, forcing your fingers down your throat until you puke up lunch. After that's been taken care of, you wash up in the sink, and take a couple slugs off the silver flask you inherited from your one-third Native American grandmother, Mollie Rose.