Part 32: Double Dog Dare

LESSONS IN LIFE FOR YOUNG ADVENTURERS
featuring minorities with peculiar names
by t.w. dragon

Once upon a time,

there were four adventurers with Hawaiian names, even though they did not look very Hawaiian at all.


The smallest of the four was a bit on the precocious side.


That is why nobody ever paid attention to him.


One of the adventurers had a tail, just like a monkey! He could even use it to swing from tree to tree if he wanted to. That is how you know he is less-evolved than proper humans.


He was very much in love with a woman, but she had drugged him and run off somewhere with a much older man. C'est la vie.


They were headed to a place called Cleyra, which happened to be represented by a giant sandstorm that caused the framerate to suffer.


The third adventurer was a ratty sort of woman. By ratty, I do not mean the sort of ratty that describes the women that your daddy spends all too much time with (at least according to your mother), but the sort of woman who is so much like a rat that she probably carries the plague.


The fourth was a glutton.

Do you know what happens to gluttons? That's right: they never get married and they end up found dead in a gutter with a hamhock stuck in their throat.


Cleyra was not, in fact, a giant sandstorm. It was not even a giant tree, though the illustration here may seem to lead you to believe otherwise.


It was actually a collection of a number of buildings along precariously-carved-out streets at the very top of the tree. The tree didn't have a name, which made it very sad indeed.


As if to add insult to injury, the people of Cleyra had carved out ridiculous pictures on its trunk and installed a large metal door. It had all been a very painful process, and nobody had ever thought to ask the tree how it felt about the whole affair.


It got back at the Cleyrans by making sure that they could never leave. It made itself very hospitable for all manner of creepy crawly beasts the size of a man.


If you were to eat this particular one, you would learn how to shoot magic darts out of your rear and reduce a target's HP to 1 at a 30% success rate.


Our adventurers found one other such who had tried to leave Cleyra. Or his shoes, at least.


Some of the creatures who lived in the tree were much larger than a man. Some of them were very scary indeed. This one clearly has a brain in its head but if you look closely, you will see that it also has a brain for its heart.


The monkey-tailed adventurer, Kilika, was never one for caution.


He'd stuff his hand into dark places without even considering what manner of terrible beasts were just waiting to bite his hand off.

Yes, his entire hand.


Just look at what he's gotten himself into because of it.


As for the glutton, Iz, well. Gluttons, they are such detestable things.


In this world, there were creatures called Moogles. They were very slothful animals and could not even be bothered to put outgoing mail into a postbox.

Should you, dear reader (or listener, if your immigrant parents have not yet taught you to be literate), ever end up so lazy that you aren't able to slide yourself--very much like a slug--over to a mailbox, I should hope that the government will not even give you welfare.


You should take a lesson from the Moogles and never start interjecting strange, extraneous sounds into conversation or writing. They are not productive members of society, and that is the reason why.


Opposite our empty-headed heroes, you should also never accept anything from unproductive members of society. They are probably trying to turn you into a crack-fiend because misery loves company.


Also, always take care to write your alphabet meticulously. You may well one day be trying to write "Cleyra" on a signpost and end up writing "Cleʃnt" and everyone will make fun of you for the rest of your life.


Iz soon finds himself in a rather ironic position. However, it is true the proper way to greet a glutton is to regurgitate on him, so at least one of the two creatures in the above illustration is familiar with modern etiquette. One should always take care to keep up with the manners in vogue.


However, Iz finds himself in a spot of trouble, what with being covered in mulch that belongs in one's stomach. Thankfully, we purchased some anointing oils, and those work miracles for getting the stains out.

Allow me to take a moment once again to stress the importance of proper spelling, or you might end up like this picture here. I must speak seriously to my publisher about arranging for a less-illiterate illustrator. As though that wasn't an oxymoron.


Kilika later comes across a lever, and in his mind decides to pull it when it is connected to a rope precariously attached to something above his head.


Instead, his brain tells his legs to give it a good kick. Sometimes, I wonder about how well that mush in his skull has kept him alive for so long.


Our adventurers find a pair of boots made for desert hiking. This makes absolutely no sense as they are in a tree.


Be forewarned, children, should you ever get stuck in quicksand, the last thing you want to do is mash the X button. A smart person would flail wildly, help will come faster that way.


The illustrator is trying to further his lackadaisical liberal hippie agenda by painting the sky here an appalling industrial green. Children, should you ever endeavor to become an illustrator (or a vegetarian), you should swallow a live centipede.

And if it doesn't bite on the way down, swallow another one.


"But The White Dragon," says Kilika, "this is about Final Fantasy. We shouldn't be talking about such appalling creepy-crawlies as those."


I am the author here, Kilika. Honestly, if you are going to go this soft on me, this place will probably suit you perfectly.


It's full of tree-loving hippie oracles. And Mexicans, but that is only evident if you can read.


They also seem to have a king, but he is obviously not doing his job. Kings are supposed to chop off peoples' heads, not let them become community leaders.


It would seem that Kilika still has some measure of pride as a man. A real man does not follow tour guides and directions. When on a tour of the zoo, he brings his hunting rifle and has a trophy-safari. When on a tour of a brewery, he brings his own mug to drink the freshest beer he possibly can, even if it means breaking open one of those great copper tuns.

Twenty years ago, I would've said that a woman should not behave this way. However, I do move with the times and, out of respect for the feminist movement, if you are a little girl reading this book, by all means, take a hunting rifle to the zoo and have at it when you become a grown-up. I would love to watch the court proceedings on television.


Kilika slowly redeems himself by the minute. You should always poke around hippies and the homeless, preferably with sticks or other sharp objects.






Iz is not only a glutton, but a shining example of American imperialism. We should encourage all lesser peoples to speak in patois-creoles, so we may advise our children on who not to marry.




Nobody likes Makakao.


You shouldn't, either.


Kilika would later push this "moon maiden" into the water and let the waterwheel do the rest of the dirty work for him such as he would have plausible deniability. Should anyone ever offer you a chance to do a "sacred dance" to harp music with magic stones, you should tell an adult. Preferably a capitalist.




When a woman starts a "small theater," it tends to be a burlesque. If you do not know what a burlesque is, ask your father. That is where he met your mother.


While your scoutmaster might tell you never to eat strange mushrooms, you should gobble them up at every opportunity.


It "jives," as you children these days call it, with Darwin's theories.








When daddy calls someone a bastard, you should always chime in, but only once apiece; he will find that highly amusing. If you say it more than once, he will beat you within an inch of your life and lock you in the basement for a week. That will teach you not to use foul language.


Makakao shows that he has yet to learn that sometimes, the worst atrocity you can commit on the world is to be born.


Thanks to political correctness, it is becoming difficult to profile people properly. However, profiling people can save your life. Practice with the above illustration. Which racial groups do you know of that value dance, and which of those commonly carry knives or firearms on their persons?


All aspiring adventurers must be kleptomaniacs. Practice this the next time the offering bowl is passed around at church. If you are caught, this will result in one of two possible eventualities: one, your parents might be so ashamed that they never drag you church again; or two, your parents might take you to church even more often to blast the devil of kleptomania out of you. In the latter case, simply use this as an opportunity for even more practice!


Lastly, brave adventurers, never trifle with large bugs.


Someone will always come to save you. Best to stick to slithy arthropods or spiders with dangerous-looking patterns. They give the most experience points.