“This is bad.” Guybrush moaned.
“No, this is worse than bad.”
“Worse than having your girlfriend kidnapped by a sinister and undead pirate
captain before you’re even initiated as a pirate?” said a voice from the
“Well, no, not as bad as that- hey! Who said that?” Guybrush wheeled to
behold Elaine, framed by the soft moonlight filtering in through the hall
“It’s my snugglecakes!” he cried delightedly. He sprang to her and gave
her a tight squeeze. “Boy am I glad to see you. You’re not going to
believe what’s been going on. I mean, first, remember that navigator head back
Elaine held her hand up for silence.
“Never mind all that. I know it already.”
“You do?” Guybrush asked confused. “How?”
Elaine jerked a thumb back to indicate the three men of low moral fibre
(pirates) who stood in the hall.
“They weren’t sure when you were ever going to fix things around
here, so they came and got me. It’s good to be Governor.”
“Great! Then you have a plan how to get those pants right?” asked Guybrush.
“Correction,” Elaine amended, “had a plan. I’ve already gone and
gotten the pants.”
“Oh this keeps getting better and better!” cheered Guybrush. “Let’s go
defeat some dead pirate butt!”
Elaine sheepishly grinned.
“There’s just one problem.”
Guybrush’s face fell.
“Guess the end of the game is further away than I thought. What
“I traded your ship for the pants, AND she still wants to kill you.”
“And I want my Voodoo Doll head back too,” chimed in the Voodoo
Priestess. “I was going to enter it in the Caribbean Witch Crafts and
Projects at Home contest, and I can’t do that without a head.”
“Can too.” Guybrush said. “It’s art. It’s very true to life.”
“I don’t think so, Guybrush. Just bring me back my head.”
“Alright, alright. C’mon Elaine, we’d better look at those pants
now. I think we’ve spent enough of our young lives trying to find The Secret
of Monkey Island™. No sense wasting more time arguing over art.”
“The pants please.” Elaine said to the men of low moral fibre
(pirates). The leather pants were handed over, and from the depths of one
of the pockets, Elaine produced a grimy piece of paper.
“Do you feel nervous?” she paused to ask Guybrush.
“No, not at all. Why do you ask?”
“Your skin is ashen gray and clammy, and you’re knees are knocking together
so loudly I can’t hear myself think.”
“Oh, well, I’m just cold.”
Elaine unfolded the paper. With a sudden flash of light, she disappeared.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” howled Guybrush.
“Four complete LucasArts™ action games, twelve different islands, less than
one year of marriage, and you take her away from me? Curse you narrator! Curse
you! How could you be so cruel?!I hope you-“
Hold it right there.
Guybrush sunk to the floor sobbing, evoking similar tears of sympathy from all
the not so tough as they thought hardcore gamers.
I didn’t do anything. Why do you assume that I did anything.
It’s always the narrator’s fault. Sheesh. Show a little credit for all the
good things that happen. There are no clouds tonight for example. But all you
can think about is yourself and your stupid need to survive.
Guybrush looked up.
“Do you mind? I’m having a personal crisis here. I told Elaine to open
that paper and read The Secret of Monkey Island™ and now she’s dead.”
She’s not dead.
“Oh.” Guybrush got to his feet. “Why didn’t you tell me this before I
made a fool out of myself?”
You were busy weeping like a baby. Tell Elaine that when you see her. She
might think it’s cute that you were crying over her.
“So where is she?” Guybrush asked, noisily blowing his nose on the
handkerchief handed to him by the Voodoo Lady. He passed it to Joe, who
tearfully thanked him.
Think about it Guybrush. Going to what part of the island are you dreading the
“Of course. The volcano.”
Now go out there and make me proud.
Guybrush peered in over the edge of the crater. Far below him, molten rock
swirled and percolated like a deadly brew of Starbuck’s.
“What’s Starbuck’s?” asked Guybrush.
You’ll like it. Promise.
“How can I help you?”
“Hi Lemonhead. Say, you wouldn’t know how to get to the heart of the volcano
“I sure do. And for you, I’ll even take you there myself. Actually,
for you, I’ll get one of my subordinate lesser people to take you. After all,
it is an active volcano. Do you see that doorway?”
Guybrush squinted, trying to distinguish anything along the interior rock wall.
“The one under the neon sign that reads ‘Grog, Baby, Yeah!’?”
“No, the one below it.”
“The one with the skeleton guards? That makes more sense.”
“Actually, for you, I’ll give you this nice memento rock to remember your
time at The Authentic Cannibal Village, where it’s Food, Fun, and Food for the
Whole Family. Open on week days from 9 to 3, cash and all major credit
cards accepted. You can probably use it to hit the guards too.”
“Gee thanks,” said Guybrush dryly. “You guys are awfully generous.”
“We’re cannibals. We could eat you instead.”
“I like rocks.”
Lemonhead left with the three men of low moral fibre (pirates), who were trading
recipes with him on the best ways to deep-fry the leather pants.
“Well this shouldn’t be to hard.” Guybrush said. He whipped out the
umbrella from Herman and leaped over the side. He plummeted towards the bubbling
lava, then suddenly the umbrella opened, and he gently glided down, stepping
onto the ledge where the two guards stood surprised.
“State your business,” growled one.
“Gee fellas, I couldn’t help but notice that you looked a little unhappy. Is
it the dating life? Girls just can’t seem to appreciate that undead bones and
bones type, huh?”
The skeletons nodded sadly.
“I just think it’s kinda funny that no one ever told you two about the
benefits of a Lava-Wash. All you have to do is say the magic words, and
leap into the lava, and you’ll look just like me, with skin, muscle, and hair.
See? Don’t I look great?” One of the skeletons doubtfully peered over
the edge down at the lava.
“I don’t know,” he said. “How do I get out of the lava once I’m
“You fly out of course. How do you think I got up here?”
The skeletons exchanged glances.
“Maybe we should just push you back in, just to be sure.”
“And make me late for my appointment? Chuck-Chuck isn’t going to like that.
Let me in, I’ve got to do a facial peel and a Hibachi grill before I’m done
The skeletons opened the door and hesitantly let him pass.
“Wait a second, what are the magic words?”
Guybrush began to shut the door.
“Just think happy thoughts.” He barred it, placing a waiting room
chair against the handles.
“Happy thoughts, eh?” said a guard. “Got any happy thoughts Pete?’
“Not being a skeleton would make me happy.”
“I don’t know.” They continued to stare over the edge.
Guybrush surveyed his surroundings. The plush chairs and soft elevator
muzak really gave it a nice atmosphere. The pasty-faced ghoul behind the
receptionist desk stared at him over her glasses. Guybrush walked towards
the door labeled ‘inner office.’
“Stop!” ordered the secretary. “You can’t go in there.
He’s in a meeting.”
“Stand aside specter, I mean to destroy your boss.”
“Oh, well, in that case, go ahead in. I’m tired of making coffee for someone
who can’t drink it.”
Guybrush strode through the door and slammed it shut.
“Alright LeChuck, I have had enough! This time you’re going home in a box.
Now where are you?”
“Right here Threepwood. PREPARE TO FACE THY FINAL DOOM.”
Guybrush strained in the darkness.
“Show yourself, dark and sinister man! I want my wife back. Come out and fight
LeChuck’s voice reverberated around the room, making it difficult for Guybrush
to determine where he was.
“You don’t want to hear my evil and dastardly plot first?”
“Let’s talk about your childhood then. I know how much you loved your
“I’m over that, LeChuck. I got therapy. Which is why I’m not afraid
to face you now. So come out and do something so I can send your rotting cursed
self back where it belongs.”
“Really? That’s all you want to do? No heated political discussions, no
board games? A little round of canasta might really hit the spot.”
Guybrush stopped pacing.
“What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you come out?”
“I’m a little self-conscious today, that’s all. Besides, I can
defeat you from where I stand!”
“Well do something, my leg’s falling asleep. So what’s the torture
special on the menu today? I guess I’m ready to hear your evil plot. How are
you going to win?”
“THROUGH SHEER FORCE OF WILL! Your doom is at hand, Threepwood, and its
completion will give me the ultimate power and control of the ENTIRE WORLD!”
“Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You don’t sound like yourself. You
sound more like,” Guybrush’s hand raced along the wall until he found the
light switch, and flipped it on, “Murray!”
Murray sat on a cushion in the middle of the floor.
“You’ll pay DEARLY for that! I won’t STAND to be treated like this!”
“You won’t stand for anything. You’re just a skull.”
“Well, true, but when has that ever stopped me?”
“Can I just have Elaine back and we can all go home?”
“Aw, come on.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Murray, why not? I thought we were friends.”
“We WERE, until you choose that anchor,” whined Murray hurtfully.
“So why the whole LeChuck thing anyway? I don’t get it.” Guybrush said.
“I was hired. I used to do a lot of acting you know, before the whole
dead thing. I’ve done Hamlet. Now all I can do is Yorick. I just sit
there and look dead. It’s just not fair!”
“Gee, I’m sorry Murray, I was just so caught up with saving the monkeys,
animal rights activists protesting and all, I simply ran out of time. Next thing
I knew I was getting married [“Which I wasn’t invited to!” grumbled
Murray] and off on my honeymoon. And then there was that whole phony death
report catastrophe, and oh Murray! I am just so sorry! Wait, did you say,
“Yes, hired. And you’ll never guess who.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You’re going to have to. I’m sworn to secrecy.”
“I’ll give you a cookie.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
“So who is it?”
“Guybrush, there is another.”
Guybrush frowned. He sat down next to Murray.
“Another what? Another sequel? Another fake LeChuck? Ano-“
“NO FOOLISH MORTAL!” roared Murray. ”Another Threepwood, Guybrush. And
she’d like to kill you. You need to catch up on your Lucasfilm™
productions. Here I am delivering a heavy and important line and all you
can think about is your career. Why I put up with you is beyond-“
“Here’s your cookie Murray. I gotta go find Elaine.” He dashed off out the
Murray crunched in the darkness.