Listen here, pimply-face after-school special of an attendant! Disneyland is, to quote your literature, the Happiest Place on Earth. So when I come to Adventureland and plunk my hard-earned fifty cents into an Indiana Jones Pinball Game, I expect COMPLETE SATISFACTION with the outcome! I want biplanes shooting, replays, grails to choose, idols to toss, THROW ME THE WHIP. Is that clear?

So I put in my money, I shoot out the ball, and I start lockin' 'em into the secret fireplace. Bing bing bing, one two three. I gots the multiball, I got it like a bad case of herpes, you hear? I got balls coming out holes that Indy didn't even know he had.

So I'm whacking them like the last bachelor on prom night, balls is everywhere son, and one of them tries to sneak out the outlane but BOOM I bang that bitch like I paid 'er and knock the ball back into play. One by one I start losing multiballs, but I still got one left, right? No, suddenly the machine plays the bad noise and freezes the flippers. I gotta watch the last ball drain and I'm limper than Wilt Chamberlin at a Mr. Universe pageant. That's right son, INDIANA JONES ATE MY BALLS!

Can I have my fifty cents back? Please? What if I buy one of your Adventureland rubber snakes?