LucasArts' Secret History #5: The Secret of Monkey Island Narrative Walkthrough

The Memoirs of Guybrush Threepwood: The Monkey Island Years

For the benefit of those of you who have ever dreamed of becoming a pirate, of mastering sword and sea, of stealing unimaginable wealth, of swilling grog until your head reels and your stomach wrenches, and of questing for that mysterious and powerful elixir, true love, I, Guybrush Threepwood, do here set quill pen to paper in the hopes of discouraging you from trying. Learn by example, if you please…

Chapter One:

I arrived on Mêlée Island™ weary from my trek across the open seas and missing the Old World already, but eager to become a real buccaneer. A crabby old lookout directed me to a bar, the Scumm Bar, the local pirate hangout.

I walked down the cliffside and along the dock until I came to the Scumm Bar, a rowdy establishment full of dirty, smelly degenerates: pirates. Two of the pirates in the front room, a friendly man named Mancomb Seepgood and an intimidating fellow with a rheumy eye, gave me some information about the local powers, including the fearsome---and dead!---ghost pirate LeChuck. I was directed into the back room, where the important-looking pirates that the lookout had mentioned held their table.

I gathered my courage and approached them. "I want to be a pirate," I exclaimed. They seemed unimpressed, but told me of the three trials I must undertake before I could be recognized as a true grog-swilling, foul-smelling pirate. I pressed them for more information on each of the three trials, and then left them to their grog.

It was time to grab some grog of my own. I waited until the cook waddled past to the front room. Then I stealthily slipped through the kitchen door. I couldn't find a mug for the grog, but, being a pirate-in-training, I stole a pot and an aging hunk of meat---not very interesting booty, but booty nonetheless. I even went after the fish lying on the dock out back. A sea gull kept me away until I found a loose board on the corner of the dock. I managed to drive off the pesky beast long enough to nab the fish.

Satisfied that I had skillfully pilfered all I could, I left the bar, looking for action...

Chapter Two:

I continued on my way, through an archway and into the town proper, where I approached a suspicious-looking citizen loitering on a corner. He mentioned his cousin Sven, so I told him about my barber, Dominique. I figured the conversation was doomed. Then, out of the blue, he offered to sell me the very map I needed to complete the trial of treasure huntery. I wanted the map, but I couldn't pay his price.

Across the street were some Men of Low Moral Fiber, the type my mother had warned me about. When I asked them about the man who tried to sell me the map, they tried to sell me a copy of the minutes of the last Mêlée Island™ PTA meeting. I convinced them to pay me two pieces of eight to relieve them of a copy. More booty!

Entering a door on the right side of the street, I discovered the local voodoo parlor. I steered clear of the voodoo stuff, but I did nab an unusual chicken. A rubber chicken, with a pulley in the middle. I had never seen anything like it in my life. So, of course, I stole it.

I met a mysterious, magical woman in the back of the parlor. She told me my future. Well, some of it.

I left the voodoo parlor and continued on through an archway beneath the town clock. Just past the arch was the entrance to a general store. The store was run by a crabby old man who held me so firmly in his gaze that I couldn't filch either the sword or the shovel I found. Unfortunately, my two pieces of eight weren't quite enough for a legitimate transaction. I needed gold, and I needed it badly.

I walked two doors down to a prison and tried talking to the prisoner, but all I got from him was a face full of rat-breath. I fled to the store, rang the bell for service, and asked for breath mints, which the old man happily sold to me. I returned to the prison and donated a mint to the prisoner, who, when I inquired, told me his name was Otis. I asked him why he was imprisoned and if I could get him anything, and he told me of a yellow flower that grows in the forest and asked me for some rat repellent. I told him that I didn't have anything for the rats, but I'd bring him some if I found it.

Deciding that the town had offered me all it was going to for now, I headed back the way I had come, beyond the lookout's post to the island paths.

Chapter Three:

I hiked along the island paths to a clearing in the middle of the island, where I found a circus tent. Inside the tent I met Alfredo and Bill Fettucini, two argumentative clowns dressed in neon spandex. They offered me a job as a tester for a new stunt they had devised. They wanted to shoot me out of a cannon. When they offered me 478 pieces of eight for my trouble, I jumped at the chance. Anything for Spanish gold! I set the pot from the kitchen on my head as a sort of helmet and climbed into the barrel of an old ship's gun.

A few confused minutes later I staggered back onto the island path, head throbbing but pockets jingling. I stopped long enough at a fork in the road to explore a bit and find the yellow flower that Otis had mentioned. I picked a petal and returned to town.

Back in town, I spent my riches on everything available. I bought the map from the citizen on the corner, and I purchased the sword and shovel from the storekeeper.

Eager to use my shiny new sword, I asked the storekeeper where the Sword Master could be found. He wouldn't tell me the way, but he went off alone to the Sword Master's house to get approval for my visit. I grew tired of waiting for his return, so I left in search of training. I could get the storekeeper to show me where the Sword Master lived when I was better prepared for battle.

Chapter Four:

Ready to embark on my first trial, I left town to find a worthy opponent to train me in swordplay. The surly fellows that wandered the island paths were not inclined to help me, so I headed towards a house at the eastern tip of the island. Before I could reach the house, I was stopped by a troublesome troll who guarded a bridge along the path. I handed over my fish and he let me pass.

At the house I found the gymnasium of Captain Smirk, a man with a neck like a tree stump. At first, he didn't want to take me as a sword-fighting student, but I convinced him with my stubborn spirit... and my gold.

For the next twelve hours, I battled a complicated contraption made of springs, mannequins, wheels, and watchamacallits until I had perfected my form and style. After the grueling physical training was over, Smirk revealed the true secret of expert sword fighting to me: of the insult. The Captain gave me the basics of insults, and then booted me into the real world of clashing blades and cutting words.

I knew I could never defeat the Sword Master unless I practiced first on amateurs like myself who wandered the island. I staked out a busy crossroad in the island paths and waited for opponents on whom to sharpen my blade.

They came at me like moths to a lantern, and I battled them with all my skill, learning new insults and retorts from each pirate I accosted. Although I lost the first few fights, I soon built a repertoire of insults (and killing comebacks) which could handily defeat almost any pirate that passed my way. I continued to fight, gaining wits and skill, until at last one defeated pirate declared that I was good enough to beat the Sword Master.

I immediately decided to seek her out.

I returned to the store in town, and found the storekeeper, complaining as usual, behind the counter. It took very little to convince him to return to the Sword Master's. This time, when the storekeeper left the store, I followed him. I tracked him out of town, to the fork in the road, and along twisting forest paths to the Sword Master's abode.

After listening in on the storekeeper's conversation with the Sword Master---a beautiful and dangerous woman named Carla---I strode forward and challenged her. She quickly defeated me with insults that I could hardly fathom.

Ego finely ground, I returned to the pathways of Mêlée Island.™

When I tried fighting other pirates to learn the responses to the Sword Master's insults, I realized that not a single man on the island knew the answers to them. After a few more fights, I returned to the Sword Master, dreading a rematch. I found her without the storekeeper's help this time, by hiking directly toward the light cast by her windows in the woods north of the fork.

When we fought again, I desperately tried every response that I thought could possibly work against her biting remarks. This time, I succeeded! The responses to other insults worked against her insults as well. The Sword Master gave up after a few rounds, and gave me a quality T-shirt to prove that I had defeated her.

I left the forest, proud of my victory. I had completed the first trial!

Chapter Five:

I rushed to the Scumm Bar and reported my progress to the important-looking pirates. They were impressed. I left the bar, feeling cocky, took a walk through town, and discovered that the Governor's mansion lay beyond the prison at the far end of town. I could embark immediately on the trial of thievery.

In front of the Governor's house were some of the most terrifying beasts I had ever seen---deadly piranha poodles intent on a feeding frenzy. Happy to please, I decorated the rancid meat from the Scumm Bar with the forbidden yellow petal from the forest and tossed my creation to the poodles. They feasted, and within moments they were asleep, knocked out by the yellow petal's drug.

The Governor's mansion seemed peaceful enough when I walked in. I entered the first door I saw and discovered otherwise. When I finally departed, several fist fights, a hole in the wall, a herd of gophers, a rhinoceros, and an encounter with the sheriff later, I had acquired a manual of style, a can of gopher repellent, and a set of wax lips. I still needed a file to get the idol, though.

Remembering my promise to Otis, I took the gopher repellent to him, figuring he could use it on his rats. He gave me a carrot cake for my trouble---not much of a reward, but I guess he didn't have anything else. It had been a hungry night's work, so I tried eating the cake, and wound up with a mouthful of file!

I ran back to the mansion, file in hand, and dove through the hole in the wall. As if in a dream, I watched myself overcome the remaining obstacles, and emerged triumphant...the idol was mine! Unfortunately, the local constabulary, in the form of Sheriff Fester Shinetop, waylaid me and was on the verge of hauling me way when, suddenly, the Governor entered the room.

Oh radiance of beauty! Oh beauty of radiance! When the Governor's eyes met mine, I knew I had found my true love. With a few sharp words, she dismissed Fester.

Then the Governor turned to me...Suavely, I replied to her question. As we chatted, my eloquence and urbanity reached new heights. I strove to weave a web of words in which to ensnare the object of my desire.

Well, I'm pretty sure it happened that way, I'm almost positive...

And then she was gone.

Through a clod of euphoria, I made my way to the front door, only to find Fester waiting for me, armed with a rope and a mission. I soon found myself six feet under water, bound to the idol, nearly drowning...yet all I could think of was Governor Marley.

After a few minutes of panic, I came to my senses and picked up the idol. Stopping only to retrieve my sword, I climbed out of the water.

There she was again, the Governor of my heart! She spoke to me. I spoke to her. I bent to kiss her...and again she was gone, and I was left alone with my trials. I had to finish my three trials. I really, really, really had to finish my three trials.

Chapter Six:

All that remained was the trial of treasure huntery, so I whipped out the map I purchased from the Citizen of Mêlée. Dancing lessons? I'd been had! Then I paid closer attention. The first word in each line looked significant. They might yet be directions through the forest.

I trekked to the entrance to the forest at the fork in the island paths, and followed the directions on the map: back, left, right, left, right, back, right, left, back. I soon determined that "back" did not mean I should backtrack, nor did "left" mean I had to make a left turn. Rather, I imagined myself as a figure in a painting, and when the directions said "left" or "right," I headed off to the left or right side of the painting. "Back" meant to take the central paths towards the top of the painting.

With this odd frame of reference in mind, I followed the directions and came to a small clearing, where I headed "right" through some trees. I had found the treasure! The "X" was clearly marked, as were the bronze historical plaque and the instructions for digging up the booty. I couldn't wait to feel the gold pouring through my fingers. I pulled out my shovel and started pushing dirt. Hours later, my mind reeling with anticipation and lack of sleep, I finally uncovered the treasure, which was...another dumb T-shirt! What's wrong with these people, anyway?

I headed back to town, my three trials completed, delighted with my accomplishments... anxious to seek out my beloved.

Chapter Seven:

I arrived at the dock just in time to watch a ghostly craft vanish over the horizon. The lookout informed me that my true love, my significant other, my main squeeze, the light of my life, the Governor herself, had been kidnapped. That decaying creature from the depths, the ghost pirate LeChuck, had carried her away to his foul lair.

That's right, LeChuck! The dead guy!

I'd show him who was the better pirate. My mind was made up. I would find a ship and crew, journey to forbidden Monkey Island,™ track down LeChuck, and rescue my love.

Chapter Eight:

I went first to the prison in town, where Otis promised to join my crew if I released him. Next I checked the Scumm Bar for potential crew members, but everyone had gone, abandoning their mugs in their haste. I collected the mugs and filled one with fresh grog from the kitchen barrel. The mug started melting! That grog sure is strong stuff.

Then inspiration struck. I poured the grog from the melting mug into another mug, and hurried toward the prison. When the second mug o' grog was near death, I stopped and again transferred the grog to a fresh mug. I had to repeat the procedure a few more times on my way to Otis, but managed to preserve a nearly-full mug of the stuff.

I poured the grog into the lock of Otis' cell, and stood back as the metal dissolved. Otis stepped from the cell---and walked out on me! "The mutinous coward!" I thought. I still needed crew members.

I returned to the Sword Master. Carla didn't believe my story until I showed her the note LeChuck had left. Appalled, she agreed to crew with me and arranged to meet me at the dock.

I couldn't think of anyone else I might recruit, so I tried exploring more of Mêlée Island.™ At the north end I spotted a house built on a small isle. It appeared that the only way to reach the isle involved a cable which had been stretched across the channel. I had found, at last, a use for my rubber chicken with a pulley in the middle. I used it on the taut cable and whizzed across. Hah! Perhaps the Fettucini Brothers would be interested in this stunt...

In the house on the isle I met a Mr. Meathook, an agreeable fellow with no hair, no hands, and a talking tattoo. I asked him to join my crew, but he refused to serve me unless I could prove that I was brave enough to lead.

Meathook demanded a test of my courage: if I could face the horrible, ferocious beast that had been the bane of his existence, he would accept me as his Captain. He opened three enormous barriers, revealing a wooden door. I opened it cautiously and gazed upon the murderous winged devil imprisoned therein. I could barely contain my terror long enough to reach out and tentatively tap the beak of the nameless horror.

Meathook was astonished. I graciously allowed him to indulge in a suitable amount of groveling, after which I instructed him to meet me at the dock.

Chapter Nine:

Hoping that a crew of two would suffice, I commenced to scout the island for an available vessel. Spying a cluster of bright lights, and reasoning brilliantly that it must be a used boat dealership, I hurried to what proved to be the shipyard of Stan's Previously Owned Vessels.

Stan was going to be my friend, to show me the true meaning of quality, to make me the deal of the century. Stan was going to annoy the marrow straight out of my bones.

I had my eye on the half-sunken ship at the very end of one dock, Stan's cheapest ship. Even that one, it turned out, was far too expensive for me. I asked about credit. Stan suggested that a note of credit from the storekeeper would be acceptable. I headed back to town. As I left, Stan gave me a compass and one of his business cards.

I asked the storekeeper about credit. He asked if I had a job. I lied. As he unlocked the safe upstairs, I watched carefully, memorizing the turns of the handle. Carrying a note of credit, the storekeeper returned to his desk, and proceeded to interrogate me so mercilessly that my little fib was exposed. He locked the note away, and again I watched to confirm that I knew the combination.

When he came downstairs I feigned a renewed interest in the Sword Master, and the old grump finally agreed to go see her again. The moment he was gone, I opened the safe, pushing the handle clockwise and pulling it counterclockwise to move it the same way he had. I took the note of credit back to Stan.

Stan though he was a smooth operator. He actually thought he could get 10,000 pieces of eight for that barely floating hunk of junk! I laughed in his face and changed the subject to the question of extras. As he listed useless "feature" after useless "feature," I stood firm and rejected the lot. I had him on the ropes! I counter-offered 2,000 pieces of eight. He lowered his asking price. I threatened to walk off the lot. He begged me to come back. I offered him 3,000, then 4,000, threatening to walk off every so often to keep Stan on his toes. Before long I had shrewdly negotiated the price to a mere 5,000 pieces of eight. Stan stalled for a moment, then capitulated.

We Threepwoods drive a hard bargain. Poor Stan never had a chance.

Chapter Ten:

I found Stan at the dock in town. Together we stood admiring my purchase. Stan tried to back out on the deal, but I would have none of that. He handed me some seafaring literature and took his leave just before my crew joined me. I was pleased to find that Otis had decided to join me after all. Shortly afterward, Meathook and Carla arrived.

We had not even boarded the ship when I sensed dissension in the ranks. Suppressing my misgivings, I hustled them aboard as quickly as I could.[/p]

The following morning, I tried to reassert my authority. My crew did not appear to be impressed. Burdened as I was with a useless, mutinous crew, I began to lose faith in my ability to rescue Governor Marley. Deep in the throes of depression, I retired to the Captain's cabin and searched the former Captain's belongings. My haul was meager indeed: a ballpoint feather pen and some ink, and a logbook which I found in a desk drawer. Having nothing better to do, I read it cover to cover. It seemed that the previous Captain had made it to Monkey Island™ purely by accident! If only I could deduce how he managed it!

Two levels below deck I stumbled upon the galley. The cupboard was well-stocked with, of all things, my favorite cereal. I opened one of the boxes and found, to my delight, a toy prize. When I examined it closely, I saw that it was a small key!

I returned to the Captain's cabin and tried the key in the cabinet on the port side, revealing a chest that had been concealed within. Delighted, I hauled the chest to the middle of the floor. I was disappointed to find that the chest contained, not the valuables I had anticipated, but merely a piece of paper and some cinnamon sticks. As I examined these perplexing exhibits, it occurred to me that perhaps I had, in fact, found something of great value. Perhaps this recipe was the key to finding Monkey Island™! I needed to find the rest of the ingredients.

In a corner of the ship's hold, under the crew's quarters, I found a chest containing a bottle of fine wine. That should do for monkey blood...Mother always said the best recipes were those where you could make substitutions.[/p]

I secured a handful of gunpowder---a perfect substitute for brimstone---from the kegs in the hold. Back on deck, I was at a loss until I noticed the thin rope ladder leading up the mast. I shimmied up to the crow's nest and got my "pressed human skull," the Jolly Roger.

I returned to the galley, where a cooking pot was already simmering over the fire. I began to throw in the ingredients: one of the cinnamon sticks, some breath mints (probably better than leaves), the Jolly Roger, the ink (which had never seen the inside of a squid), a few drops of the wine, my faithful rubber chicken, and the gunpowder.

Here the recipe stumped me. Zinc oxide? Hydrochloride? I had no idea what those might be. It was then that I noticed the list of ingredients on the box of cereal I'd been eating. With a shrug I tossed in a handful. There was a terrifying explosion and a smell like month-old cabbage. I passed out.

Chapter Eleven:

I woke up with my tongue dried onto the filthy galley floor. I became convinced that, while I had lain unconscious, someone must have stuffed a bunch of old socks into my skull. And I hadn't even gotten a chance to drink grog yet!

I staggered up to the deck, to find that the ship had somehow miraculously arrived at Monkey Island™.

Since no rowboat was available, I had to come up with a way to get from the ship to the island. All too soon the answer became clear. The cannon on deck brought back disturbing memories of the Fettucini Brothers and their Cannon of Terror. I ran back to the galley for the small pot by the cupboard. I got a length of rope from the hold, along with another handful of gunpowder. I put the gunpowder in the cannon nozzle and used the rope with the cannon as a fuse.

Now I had to light the fuse. I returned to the galley and used one of my T-shirts with the fire under the cooking pot. The T-shirt burst into flame! I hurried back on deck with the flaming mass and touched it to the fuse. Then I quickly walked to the cannon nozzle, just in time to be blasted to my destination, flying gracefully through the air like a master acrobat. I landed gently on Monkey Island.™

Chapter Twelve:

So there I was, on the shores of Monkey Island™ with my head in the sand and an uncomfortable feeling of warmth in the vicinity of my posterior. I pulled myself out of the sand and examined the paradise in which I had been planted. A banana had fallen from a nearby tree, and I picked it up as a hedge against future hunger. Near the tree was a sturdy-looking rowboat, perfect for exploring the island waters. As I had no oars, I postponed the idea of aquatic exploration and entered the jungle, ready for whatever hidden terrors lay in wait.

The nearest landmark was a deep, ominous crack in the island surface. There seemed to be no way to scale its walls, so I returned to the jungle and continued to explore.

I walked north from the crack to a river fork. There was a bridge at the fork as well as a note, which I read. I realized that the island was inhabited by cannibals! By cannibals who build bridges! By cannibals who wrote memos! On letterhead! Frightening. I was to find many more such notes on Monkey Island,™ but I won't bore you with the details.

I crossed the bridge and climbed a set of footholds in the cliffside. On top of the cliff, I found another note, as well as an extremely sophisticated piece of primitive art. I pushed and pulled the primitive art around, marveling at the way it was balanced.

I scaled another set of footholds which ended on a mountain peak with a stunning view of Monkey Island.™ I could see my ship, and I could see the banana tree that marked my landing spot. As I ventured across the peak, a ragged, smelly man approached, babbling insanely. I was greatly relieved when he finally left me alone. I pushed a lone rock off the edge of the peak. By some miraculous mechanism, the primitive art on the ledge below reacted to my action by flinging the rock halfway across the island. I went down to the primitive art and shoved it to another angle. Back on the peak, I took another rock from a pile of rocks and pushed it off the edge. After a few more tries, adjusting the art to various angles and pushing rocks off the peak, I managed a direct hit on the banana tree beach.

I climbed down to the river fork and returned to the jungle, heading toward a volcano I had spotted at the northwest end of the island. A calm, blue lake gleamed in the center of the volcanic crater, and I hiked around it. On the western edge of the volcano was a makeshift fort, apparently constructed by the shabby castaway I'd recently met. I was a pirate, so of course I looted the place. My meager booty: a spyglass and a coil of rope. I tipped the cannon over and added a cannonball and a small supply of gunpowder to the haul. As I turned to leave the fort, the castaway caught me. He seemed harmless, though very annoying, and eventually I escaped with my plunder.

I next hiked east to a dry pond, where again I was accosted by the ragged castaway, who said his name was Herman Toothrot. He mentioned something about waiting to be rescued. He told me about a friend of his who, even as we spoke, was hanging gruesomely from a tree branch over the pond. Toothrot was obviously insane, so I told him to go away. Toothrot's deceased friend, though, had something I wanted. There was a length of rope in his hands. I had a feeling I would need it.

Chapter Thirteen:

Unfortunately, the corpse and his rope were out of reach. I however, had a plan. The body was attached to an old rotting log. If I could somehow lift that log, my silent friend would descend to within reach.

I journeyed up the dry riverbed until I arrived again at the fork. There was a dam there, constructed of large boulders. I packed the gunpowder between the boulders.

Now I needed to ignite the gunpowder. I pried open the spyglass that I had found at the fort; inside was a perfectly good lens. I used it to focus the bright island sun on the gunpowder, and BOOM! I was tumbling downstream in the newly-filled riverbed.

Somewhat moist, but in high spirits, I returned to the pond, where I found that the log had floated with the rising water, lowering both man and rope to the ground. Congratulating myself for my brilliance and cunning, I picked up the rope and ran to the place where I knew it would be useful: the crack.

Chapter Fourteen:

I discovered a strong branch at the crack's edge, tied one of the ropes to it, and descended halfway into the crevice. There I found a stump sturdy enough to support me and my other rope. I scrambled down the second tope to the floor of the chasm.

At the bottom of the crack I found a pair of oars. I hauled them up the side of the cliff and headed south through the jungle, back to the towboat on the southern beach.[/p]

I discovered when I reached the beach that my experiments with the primitive art had done me some good. There were two more bananas at the foot of the banana tree. I stuffed them in my pockets. Kinda squishy.

Now that I had oars, I could use the rowboat to row around the island.

And so I rowed...

Chapter Fifteen:

I rowed east past a strange-looking peninsula with a clearing in the middle of it, and north beyond the mountain range that had limited my progress on the island so far. At the north end of the island I spotted a beach and a primitive native village. I thought I might find something to help me there, so I landed on the beach and walked over.

The village seemed deserted. I got a chance to add to my banana collection; I pilfered a few choice bananas from the fruit bowl sitting in front of a big stone head. I was just leaving the village when I learned, to my dismay, that it wasn't deserted after all.[/p]

The natives didn't approve of my banana-stealing habits. In fact, they were ready to roast me unless I came up with a gift to appease them. I offered them a banana and a cannon ball. They refused both. Maybe if I had kept my rubber chicken with a pulley in the middle...

The natives jailed me in a dismal little hut while they debated the proper preparation of Guybrush Soufflé.

Feeling a little morbid and dramatic, I picked up a skull from the floor and geared up to bow out. "Alas, poorYorick..."

Hey! So much for bowing out! There was a loose floorboard underneath that skull! With a new burst of confidence, I realized that Guybrush Threepwood would, after all, see another sunrise.

I lifted the loose floorboard and beat a hasty retreat to my rowboat and the south side of the island.

Chapter Sixteen:

I rowed back to the beach where my Monkey Island™ adventures had begun. Nothing had changed, except now I had more bananas. Desperate for companionship, I went into the jungle and fed my bananas to a monkey who'd been roaming around near the beach. She devoured them quickly and happily; after hat, she wouldn't leave me alone. She followed me everywhere I went and did everything I did. Silly little monkey.

I decided to explore the clearing on the peninsula at the eastern end of the island. I walked there instead of taking the boat since I didn't want to frighten away my new companion, who was built for trees and not for water.

In the clearing, I found a record of the vile abuses and disgusting practices of the natives – three human beings were skewered onto long pointy sticks. I shivered as I realized that I had seen as many dead people on Monkey Island™ as living people. I shivered again when I realized I had never been trained in defense against pointy sticks.

Exploring further despite my better judgment, I saw an amazing thing---a monkey head the size of a house. Around this monstrosity were a number of carefully crafted idols. I wanted to get a closer look, but a fence stood in my way.

Two intricately crafted totem poles stood nearby, glaring at me. Could I climb one and leap over the fence? I pulled on the totem pole nose, hoping to get a leg up, and suddenly an opening in the fence appeared. The moment I released the nose, the fence closed again.

My primate pal helped me out. She jumped to the nose and swung on it, opening the gate and allowing me to pass.

I walked through the gate and examined the idols. I picked up the smallest one, a wimpy little idol, in part because I hoped that I could trade it to the natives in exchange for their help, and in part because I was getting used to the idea of helping myself to anything that wasn't nailed down.

Chapter Seventeen:

I rowed to the north side of the island again, this time armed with the wimpy little idol. When I reached the village, the natives again threatened to eat me. I begged them to give me another chance. They gave me the chance, and I gave them the idol. They seemed pleased, and left me alone in the village.

Sensing an opportunity to add to my inventory, I strode boldly into the natives' hut and collected Herman's banana picker. On my way out, I found Toothrot hanging around the village entrance, muttering. Evidently he'd come looking for his picker. I swapped the banana picker for the key to the monkey head. It was by far the strangest looking key I had ever seen:

It was a long white stick with fluffy bits of cotton glued to each end.

I had just entered the jungle when I realized that the natives might have valuable information about the monkey head. I returned to the village and questioned them further. They told me that LeChuck was hiding the key ingredient of some sort of anti-ghost concoction aboard his spectral ship, far beneath Monkey Island.™ The entrance to LeChuck's hideout was through the maw of the gigantic monkey head itself!

The natives also accidentally let slip that they had a secret way of navigating through the maze that led to LeChuck's hideout-the shrunken head of a ship's navigator. I needed that head, but the natives were reluctant to part with it. I gave them one of the brochures that Stan had pressed upon me, the leaflet entitled "How to Get Ahead in Navigating." I took a good look at the head of the navigator, and had second thoughts about whether I really wanted it. Yuck!

I returned to the south side of the island.

Chapter Eighteen:

As I gazed at the gigantic monkey head, I was seized by an inexplicable urge to use the giant key with the gigantic monkey's ear!

To my great surprise, it worked: the monkey's mouth opened and a tongue rolled out, inviting me into the enormous maw. I proceeded inside and down a ladder of giant monkey vertebrae. Before me was a confusing maze of twisting passages and twisted body parts. The walls and floors were sprouting eyeballs, noses, hands, and slimy, oversized human hearts. I wished, not for the first time, that I had never left my comfy home in the Old World.

I consulted the head of the navigator. For a decapitated head, it was extremely cooperative. Each time I stopped for a moment, it spun in my hands and pointed out the way I needed to walk. The head led me in all directions. At times I thought I was backtracking, yet I always found myself in entirely new areas of this disturbing place.

After what seemed like hours of walking, the head led me to the Pirate LeChuck's infamous ghost ship.

Chapter Nineteen:

The ship glowed with an eerie blue light. I swallowed my fear, realizing that the voodoo root that LeChuck held in his ship, being the only possible means of destroying a ghost, represented my only hope of freeing the Governor and fulfilling my dreams. I marched onto the ship.

It was filled with ghosts! They were dancing and frolicking, playing instruments, and flinging their skulls to the beat. A specter with a detachable head spotted me and chased me off the boat.

Then I remembered that the natives had told me that the navigator head's necklace would make its wearer invisible to ghosts. Unfortunately, the head didn't want to give up its necklace. We debated the matter until I won the point by threatening to dropkick him into the lava. I donned the necklace and boarded the ship again, hoping that this time I would not be seen.

I wasn't seen, but, when I tried to open the squeaky door toward the stern, I was heard. Giving up for the moment on that door, I tried the opposite one and found myself in the cabin of LeChuck himself! The evil ghost was gazing out the cabin window. An important-looking key hung near him on the wall. When I approached to pick it up, some sixth sense must have alerted LeChuck. Afraid to attempt the direct approach, I tried to devise a sneakier way of getting the key.

I remembered that the compass that Stan had given me contained a powerful magnet. I simply pointed the compass at the key, which floated silently over to me. Key in hand, I left LeChuck to his brooding.

Back on the main deck, I found a hatch that led down to the crew's quarters. I'd never imagined that ghosts sleep. The theological implications are astonishing, but that's another story. A crew member was sacked out on the bunk. What I immediately wanted from this ghostly snoozer was his grog bottle, but every time I got close to it, he hugged it to him as if it were a teddy bear.

I continued through the room, entering a hold in which I found ghost animals. It finally occurred to me that perhaps a ghost feather would work to wake a sleeping spook. I tried to pick up one of the ghostly chickens and wound up holding the feather I'd been after. I returned to the sleeping crew member and tickled his feet a few times. Eventually he dropped his grog bottle.

I pocketed the bottle and returned to further explore the room with the ghost animals. I found a crate that had been nailed, chained, bolted, tied, glued, and welded together. There was obviously something important in there. Near the crate was a locked hatch in the floor.

I used the key from LeChuck's quarters on the hatch and descended to a second cargo hold, where I was confronted by a vicious ghost rat. I wanted some of the grease in the tub behind him, but I didn't dare approach the sharp-toothed little demon. Then it occurred to me to pour some grog into a nearby dish, which the nasty creature greedily lapped up. He was soon passed out on the floor.

I scooped up a slimy lump of lard from the tub and went back up to the ship's deck, where I greased the squeaky door. The door opened with hardly a whisper. Inside I found a set of ghost tools...and the entrance to the brig. Surely my beloved Governor was imprisoned therein!

I would have to recover the voodoo root and persuade the natives to prepare some of their anti-ghost brew before I would be able to rescue the Governor. I took the tools down to the hold where I'd gotten the ghost feather, and used them to open the glowing crate.

Inside the crate was the magic voodoo root.

Chapter Twenty:

I left the ship and ventured back to the village.

The natives were more than happy to cook up some spirit spritzer. Armed against spectral interference, I returned to the ghost ship to take my revenge.

Unfortunately, by the time I got back, LeChuck was long gone. I learned from the one remaining crew member that LeChuck had taken the ship and the Governor to Mêlée Island.™ The loathsome brigand meant to marry my intended!

As I turned to leave the catacombs, I realized that my ship was at the bottom of the ocean. How would I return to Mêlée? Luckily, Toothrot arrived to save me. He admitted that he had a ship of his own, so we used it to sail back to Mêlée Island.™

Chapter Twenty-one:

When we arrived at Mêlée Island,™ I hurried to the dock. I wasted little time with the ghost on the dock; the magic seltzer bottle performed just as the natives had advertised.

I ran through town, only to be waylaid by another specter. I was armed and I was desperate, so this spook, who insisted on seeing my invitation to the wedding, became cosmic pudding as well. I dashed into the church and screamed at the minister to stop the wedding.

My confrontation with my arch rival LeChuck was now at hand. As I prepared to destroy him, my love muffin put in a surprise appearance. She had her own plan to destroy LeChuck! I love a woman who can take charge. I was about to take out the evil ghost pirate myself when he resorted to physical violence, at which, I must admit, he was extremely skilled. He punched me with the style and grace of a three ton truck, er, cannon. I soared in a graceful sweeping arc over the island and lost my grip on my voodoo root beer, my only weapon against LeChuck. Things weren't looking good.

LeChuck punched me again, and yet again. Before I knew it, I found myself inspecting the innards of what I concluded must be Stan's grog machine. A bottle of root beer rolled out as I rolled in. I heard Stan's voice, muffled by the walls of the machine. A few moments later it seemed to me that Stan's voice was rapidly receding into the distance. For some reason, this didn't bother me much. It did bother me when LeChuck pulled me out of the grog machine and wound up to strike me again...

But I, with quick feet and a quicker mind, snatched up the bottle of root beer that had fallen from the grog machine. Armed with a substitute for the magic seltzer bottle, I squirted LeChuck into oblivion.

LeChuck exploded beautifully, lighting the whole island and imparting a fiery, romantic mood to the evening. All the better, for I spun round at a noise behind me and found my honey pumpkin standing there.

She offered to buy me a root beer.


Looking back, I can hardly believe that I used to be the innocent, unassuming boy that first landed on Mêlée Island,™ eager for fighting and fortunes. Now I'm a man, battle-hardened, wealthy, and still wild about my Governor. There seems to be nothing left for me to do. I could very well live out the rest of my life in perfect serenity and contentedness.

Except, one thing keeps bothering me.

I never did discover the Secret of Monkey Island™...

No news post