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From the personal log of Guybrush Threepwood:
I’m Guybrush Threepwood, the only non-dead pirate to know the secret of Monkey Island and also the world’s greatest pirate captain. I’ve been to Monkey Island four times, defeated the evil pirate LeChuck repeatedly, I’ve uncovered to gates of hell, I’ve destroyed an Australian land developer and his Ultimate Insult, I’ve discovered the world’s only talking Monkey and married the most beautiful governor in the world (and all before the age of 22). But what are those secrets I hear you ask? Well, it all started when I washed up on the Shore of Melee Island…
A strong ocean wind blew the old logbook and pen out of Guybrush’s hands and scattered the pages across the night sky.

Part I: Looking for love, that doesn’t want to be found.

“Oh, darn.” he moaned. Then reality came flooding back to him. He was hanging half way down a massive cliff face, holding onto a gnarled branch with one hand. “Oh well,” he sighed, “Back to calling for help, since I’ve got nothing better to do.” He cupped his free hand around his mouth and yelled, “Help!” at the top of his lungs. Guybrush glanced down at the ferocious waves crashing against the rocks, three hundred feet below. Just then, something waving in the breeze just to his left caught his attention. It was a long piece of rope, tangled around a rock. Guybrush reached over and gave the rope a tug. It was fairly flexible. “Hmm.” he pondered, rubbing his new forming beard. “It looks like a rope from some kind of heavy siege equipment. Oh yeah!” Guybrush said, snapping his fingers. “I could use this rope to climb higher up the cliff, and I could easily use those jagged rocks up there as a make-shift ladder, then I could climb to the top to freedom!”
So, Guybrush swung from his branch and grabbed on tight to the rope. The rope violently jerked, bouncing Guybrush up and down. Bang! A large rock came flying down and smacked him on the head. “Owww!” he moaned as he pulled the rock off his head and slipped it into his pants. Ping! Smack! Two more rocks came crashing down. The rope slipped out of Guybrush’s hands. “Whoa!” he cried. He grabbed the gnarled branch just in time. “Okay, maybe climbing this rope is a bad idea. It’s too flexible.” Then he got an idea. He tied the rope around his ankles, pulled the rock from his pants and let go of the branch. He screamed in terror as he free fell three hundred feet. Just before his head smashed on the rocks below, the home-made bungee cord jerked and pulled him straight back up again. He flew straight up to the top of the cliff and straight back down again. Sprong! The rope sent Guybrush to the top of the cliff again. He quickly untied the rope from his ankles. He landed with a thud in a large, monkey-shaped bush at the top of the cliff, just in front of a huge mansion.

Guybrush triumphantly pushed open the mansion doors. “Elaine! Your mighty pirate husband has at last returned. Only the thought of returning to you and the fear of my life has kept me alive for these past few days. I escaped by using…” Guybrush looked across the room. Standing by the table in the middle of the room was, not Elaine, but Jacques, Elaine’s assistant.
“I’m sorry, monsieur Thripwood, but I’m afraid that mademoiselle Marley is avay at zi moment.”
Guybrush frowned. “Hey, that’s madam Threepwood to you, not mademoiselle Marley. By the way, where has Elaine gone?”
Jacques shrugged. “She zed that she voz sailing around the archipelago looking for a crew for some quest ov some sort.” He picked up a piece of paper. “She left a letter though.”
Guybrush snatched away the letter.
“Dear Guybrush,” he read. “I have to run some ‘errands’ so I’ll be away for a month or two. Please feed the poodles while I’m gone and don’t eat the chicken in the cellar. See you soon, Honey cakes.
Guybrush looked up from the letter. “She can’t go alone! She might need my help. I’ll have to go after her! Oh! There’s more.”
“P.S I’ll be alright on my own. I don’t need your help. Just stay on Melee Island and look after the mansion while daddy is away.”
“Oh darn.” Guybrush turned to Jacques. “So, where is Grandpa Marley anyway?”
“He’s on Booty Island fixing some issues up.”
“Okay, I’ll just be upstairs for a while.”
So, Guybrush went up to the bedroom, changed his outfit and went to bed. Soon, he was fast asleep. He dreamt that he was on the ceiling of the International House of Mojo. He heard a familiar voice echo from all around. “Guybrush! I need your help!”
Guybrush tried to move but he couldn’t. He cried out, “Who are you? Why do you need my help?”
The voice replied, “Elaine is in great peril. Come here at once.”
“Here, stupid.” the voice snapped angrily.
“Where’s here?” Guybrush asked, dumbfounded.
The voice sighed and said, “The building that you are looking at right now.”
It suddenly dawned on Guybrush. “Oh, you mean the Mojo house thing!”
“Yes.” the voice snapped.
Suddenly, Guybrush awoke. “Elaine is in trouble!”

Guybrush ran through the streets of Melee, dodging the citizens and cutting through alleys until he reached the large voodoo building. He burst through the doors and found the voodoo lady sitting in her chair, waiting patiently. She smiled when she saw Guybrush enter. “Ahh! Guybrush. I’m glad you could make it.”
“Why have you summoned me? Where is Elaine? What kind of peril is she in? Why can’t I ever have a decent break?” he blurted.
The voodoo lady held up her hand, quieting Guybrush. “Be patient. All your questions will be answered. Just give me a moment to think of a way to answer them in way that will confuse you.”
Guybrush raised one eyebrow. “Huh?”
The voodoo lady looked embarrassed. “Whoops. Ah, let me see… I have summoned you to tell you of what you must do to save Elaine.”
“I knew I had to go with her!”
“Don’t interrupt. Elaine is on a quest to find Captain Scurvy’s hidden locker.”
Guybrush thought for a moment. “Back in grade school, I had trouble finding my locker.”
The voodoo lady ignored Guybrush and continued. “Elaine is on a quest to find Scurvy’s hidden locker, which is a fabulous treasure filled with priceless diamonds and jewels and is the envy of every pirate in the Caribbean. But Elaine must not find this treasure.”
“Why not?” Guybrush asked. “Is it cursed? Is it protected by a horde of undead zombies?”
The voodoo lady shook her head. “No. An evil force wishes to find the locker also.”
“Thankfully, no.”
“The ghost of Ozzie Mandrill?”
“No. I’m sensing that you have met this evil before,” the voodoo lady said, closing her eyes. “If Elaine finds this treasure, the evil will find Elaine and the will kill her.” Guybrush’s eyes widened and he gasped. “Kill her?”
The voodoo lady’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. And her death will begin a great war that will cause the end of the Caribbean.”
“Whoa!” Guybrush whispered. He turned towards the priestess. “When will this all happen?”
“There is a way that you can prevent this from happening.” she said.
“How?” asked Guybrush, straightening up.
“You must prevent Elaine from finding the hidden locker or find it before she does and destroy it with the treasure.”
Guybrush sat down on a hand shaped chair. “Do you know where the locker is hidden?”
“If I knew where it was, I wouldn’t call it a “hidden” locker.”
“So, where is Elaine?” Guybrush asked.
The voodoo lady closed her eyes again and said, “She is currently located on Plunder Island.”
“Okay.” cried Guybrush, jumping to his feet. “I’m off to Plunder Island. Could you perhaps zap me there or something? I’d rather not do that map, ship, crew thing here again.”
The voodoo lady frowned. “What do I look like, a magician? But I do have this voodoo recipe.” She tares out a page from a cookbook labeled “How to cook up a voodoo storm.” Guybrush glances at the recipe. “How to get to Plunder Island. Hey! How come this looks so familiar?”
The voodoo lady smiled. “Maybe you’ve read this book before. I’m afraid I gave away my most popular recipe to a couple yacht racers just before a race. They were never seen again. So, be careful. Follow the recipe TO THE WORD!”
Guybrush shoved the recipe in his pocket and headed towards the door. “Well, I’m of to save the Caribbean…again.”
The voodoo lady nodded and said, “Good luck, Guybrush. And farewell, for this is the last time we will meet.”
Guybrush’s jaw fell open. “What do you mean?”
The voodoo lady laughed. “I’m afraid I’ve over stayed my contract. By the way, the answer to your final question is; the viewer would get bored. Goodbye.” And she vanished in a puff of purple smoke. Guybrush sighed. “Gee, I never got to say goodbye. And I never really found out what her name was.”

At the Melee Island docks, the harbor mistress was reading her book in her shack. “No Harry, you can’t leave Cindy or Fred will take her for himself.” she sobbed. Then, she was interrupted by a harsh knock at the door. She groaned and waddled over and opened it. Guybrush was standing door way. “Oh, if it isn’t ‘Miss Elaine Marley’.” she sneered. “I need a ship, and my name is Guybrush Threepwood.” he demanded.
“And I need a break, but we all don’t get what we ask for, do we.” the harbor mistress droned. “Just wait a minute while I write your details down.” She began to scribble on a piece of paper. “So, how long do you wish to hire the boat?”
“About a month or so.” answered Guybrush. “Hey! Don’t I need a symbol of authority or something?”
“No. I know that you have the gubernatorial seal of Melee Island, and you’ve hired and returned one of our ships before.”
“Oh!” sighed Guybrush, quite relived.
“Looks like you’re in luck today.” the harbor mistress droned on. “Since you’re our tenth customer; you get a free crate of root beer. Congratulations.”

After boarding his ship, Guybrush set about preparing the recipe.
“Okay let’s see. I’ll need:
Boiling water
12 chicken feathers
3 chicken eggs
1 glass lemon juice
2 glasses red dye
“Hmmm. These should be easy enough to find.”
He found a carton of eggs and a bottle of lemon aid in the galley and gunpowder in the hold.
“Okay.” he said as he tossed them into a large cooking pot of boiling water. “Only two more ingredients left.” But finding chicken feathers and red dye was a lot harder that he thought. After thirty minutes of searching, Guybrush went into the captain’s quarters and collapsed onto the large bed. Puff! Someone had torn one of the pillows and down flew all over the bed. Guybrush stared at the feathers. “Hey! I could use these feathers in the recipe! It’s not exactly chicken feathers but it will have to do.”
He picked up 12 feathers, went down to the galley and threw them into the stew. Then he searched the galley’s cupboards. “There might be red food dye somewhere in here.” he thought. Instead, in the very top cupboard, there were several small tins of different coloured paint. “Hmmm. Blue, black, green, red, white…” he read as he picked up each tin and read the label. Suddenly, one of the paint tins slipped from his hands and fell into the bubbling pot. “Oh no!” Guybrush yelled. “I’ll have to start all over again. Thank goodness the mix didn’t expl-!”
Just then, the mixture erupted with green smoke. Guybrush started to feel sleepy. “Oh! The voodoo spell is starting to take effect!”
Then empty paint tin floated to the top of the pot. The label read: “Red paint.” Guybrush smiled dizzily. “I guess red dye can be substituted for red paint!” he manage to say, seconds before he passed out.

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