You keel over from the lavender scent, your usually poop-scented room proving too much of a contrast to this strange and unusual smell. Your nasal cavity has had such abuse for the last few years that the lavender smell is akin to rapidly force-feeding an ascetic with caviar: the sensory overload can't be dealt with, and your brain's circuits, jumping all over the place, black out in confusion.
(http://www.thehealthcure.org/media/wysiwyg/Lavender.jpg)
Unfortunately, as you fall to the floor you scratch yourself on a nail that's poking out of the doorframe. Your BODILY FLUIDS start spilling out through the gap from a particularly vital point, and soon you are no longer of this mortal coil. You would swear revenge on lavender and all its children, but firstly you can't IDENTIFY the smell, and secondly you don't have TIME (in fact you only have a snotty pritt stick according to your final inventory). Ah well - better luck next time, BEESNOT LUMPWAGON!
Lavender's blue, dilliy dilliy,
Lavender's green:
Pity you're done, dilly dilly,
What a sad scene!
Would you like to play again (http://exilian.co.uk/forum/index.php?topic=3275.0)?
~THE END~