My undead dogs attack Borthwick. Their phonebook faces slap his ankle, mildly irritating him. Or should I say: Mildly irradiating him! That's right! they are radioactive! Borthwick falls to the floor just as I get up, pulling dice out of my ears. I then reach up through the trapdoor, grab a blowtorch and a golf club, Weld the trapdoor shut, and hit Borthwick's teeth with the golf club.