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Dubloon Disaster Shenanigans


by larkspurlane

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Once upon a time in the wide wide world of Neopia there lived a blue Krawk whose main purpose in life was to row a boat and avoid homing mines like crazy. This Krawk’s name was Dorak, though he was by and large known mostly as “the Dubloon Disaster guy.”

     This is a story about Dorak and how he had an epiphany regarding those homing mines one day and how he came to solve his mine problem temporarily by way of this epiphany so he could rest and eat a sandwich.

     On this particular day, Dorak was rowing his boat as he usually did, and avoiding lethal homing mines as he usually did, and wondering whether or not he got paid enough to do this stuff, which he definitely did, but he was just a whiny kind of guy.

     As always the mines were edging ever closer to Dorak’s boat, and as always Dorak was shooting his little boat ahead of them with a flurry of oar work and plucking dubloons out of the water with that funny ‘poink!’ sound.

     Then, suddenly, as more and more mines were closing their spiked circle around him, Dorak had his epiphany.

     “Wait a second,” he exclaimed, “how are these mines even floating?!”

     And the whole world of Neopia actually waited a second to contemplate this.

     Then all of the mines surrounding Dorak’s boat spontaneously became sentient entities and attempted to answer the question. (Because a story without conversation is a dreadfully wearisome kind of story.)

     “Yeah, how do we float?” asked a mine.

     “Oh my gosh,” said another, reeling in shock at this revelatory question.

     “I thought we were, like, made of solid metal and explosives.”

     “By the Bomberry, that’s a good point.”

     Then one of the mines had an existential crisis and it exploded quietly to itself.

     Dorak rubbed his chin and he thought of possible things that could make large spiky chunks of metal float.

     “Maybe,” he whispered confidentially to the mines floating around his boat, “it’s gas.”

     “Mine your manners!” said a mine, and two other mines exploded because of the bad pun.

     “He could be right,” said another mine.

     “Okay,” said a third, “whose bright idea was it to have Beany Burpers for lunch?”

     “Not me -- I wanted a fruit salad. With organic peaches.”

     “I had the soup special.”

     “Well, I had a Cap’n Threelegs Cutlass Crusade at the Golden Dubloon.”

     Then everyone was quiet for a while as they tried to figure out how a Dubloon Disaster mine had eaten lunch at the Golden Dubloon and how the mine -- and the Golden Dubloon, for that matter -- had survived to tell the tale.

     However, this hurt everyone’s heads, so they stopped thinking about it.

     “Speaking of the Golden Dubloon, the Canon Fodder is a great drink,” a mine remarked casually. “Explosive.”

     “I personally favour the Land Lubber,” said another mine timidly.

     All of the other mines looked scornfully at that mine (insofar as it is possible for a mine to look scornfully at anything) and decided not to be its friend any more.

     This made the timid mine so upset that it up and floated away to drown its sorrows at the nearest tavern on Krawk Island in a manly mug o’ Ergyfruit Grog. Or maybe it was a minely mug o’ Ergyfruit Grog, but we won’t say that because more innocent mines would explode due to pun overdose.

     Then the mines talked amongst themselves about what horrible gas-inducing foods they must have eaten all their lives for them to be able to float in this unnatural manner. Amidst exclamations about Beany Burpers and burritos and other terrible foods, Dorak the Krawk stood up in his little rowboat and exclaimed:

     “Fear not, citizens!”

     All of the mines found this very heroic and dramatic and they gathered ‘round eagerly.

     “I give you...” said Dorak, and as he spoke a ray of light split the clouds above and an invisible Angelpuss choir started chanting in the background, “Flat-U-Less tablets!”

     And Dorak held out his hand and in it he clutched a blue small jar whose contents were eloquently indicated by its label; that is, a polite white cloud of gas with a red line going through it to show that it was being negated.

     And then the ray of light that had split the clouds finally had a point in life and that point was to shine as brightly and mystically as possible on the Flat-U-Less jar, which it did with great determination. And the invisible Angelpuss choir chanted louder and more magically and the wind picked up dramatically and swooshed around and the waves themselves stilled and quieted so that everyone could enjoy this phenomenal spectacle of special effects.

     “Wow,” breathed the mines collectively because it was all so beautiful.

     Then one of the mines started to get weepy and so did its neighbour and soon all of the mines were crying mine tears. (Here’s a piece of trivia with which you can impress your friends: Dubloon Disaster mine tears are harvested to make Hydroslothic Acid Toothpaste. TRUE FACT.)

     Then the mines felt like holding hands and sitting by a campfire and singing songs about pink faellies and rainbows and other such joyous things, but they couldn’t because they didn’t have hands or a campfire, so instead they gazed in awe at Dorak.

     Everyone seemed to have quite forgotten by this point that the mines’ sole purpose was actually to wedge themselves like barnacles under Dorak’s boat and explode. Everyone, that is, except Dorak himself, as we will see shortly.

     “Yes,” said Dorak, “Flat-U-Less tablets. Guaranteed to heal Bloaty Belly and other gaseous disorders of any description! All yours for the low low price of 533 neopoints plus shipping and handling!”

     “Hey,” said one cynical-minded mine. (Or maybe it was a cynical-mined mine, but we can’t say that due to mines’ sensitivity to puns.) “I’d like you to read the description, if you would be so kind.”

     Then the cynical mine muttered about commercials on neovision and how they drove him up the wall and he would like some more details on this supposed miracle Flat-U-Less product, if that was at all possible.

     “No problem,” said Dorak, who was actually a pretty darned good salesman as well as a mediocre pirate. “Here it is: ‘give your pet just one of these pills and stand back. Your pet will release some wind and then feel fine! Clothespin not included.’”

     “That sounds perfect,” said a mine, and all of the other mines agreed.

     “Except we’re not pets,” pointed out the cynical mine, but everyone told him to shut up and stop pointing out absurdities lest the entire narrative collapse into a meaningless heap.

     Then all of the mines tried to search their pockets to check for spare clothespins but they had none, of course, because they had no pockets. Which is not to imply that anyone who has pockets necessarily has clothespins in them, but it certainly ups the odds by a significant amount.

     “It doesn’t matter,” said Dorak kindly, “I don’t need clothespins. Don’t worry about it.”

     All of the mines thanked him for being so generous and considerate and Dorak told them not to mention it like the nice little Krawk he was.

     Then Dorak saw out of the corner of his eye that at some point a one hundred dubloon coin had popped up a short distance away, and he immediately put his epiphany-generated plan into action.

     “Ok guys,” he said to the mines, “think quick!”

     And Dorak chucked the jar of Flat-U-Less tablets as far away as he could.

     And of course all of the mines leaped after it in an effort to rid themselves of their inexplicable powers of floatation.

     And of course, in doing so, all of the mines piled onto each other and exploded quite spectacularly, as Dubloon Disaster mines are wont to do.

     “Hah!” said Dorak when the explosion had subsided, “and they say great mines think alike.”

     Happily, no mines were around to explode because of the bad pun (since they had all already exploded).

     Then Dorak rowed towards the one hundred dubloon coin and picked it up with that amusing ‘poink!’ sound and he placed it beside him in his little rowboat and he felt very satisfied with himself for having outwitted those pesky mines once again.

     Of course Dorak knew how and why the mines actually floated; it involved some complicated chemical process between the element of HOM and the element of ING binding with DEV(ICE). Which was a chemical reaction which the layperson shortens to ‘homing device’ because the layperson knows absolutely nothing about these scientific affairs.

     And then Dorak had a minor epiphany when he realized that somehow the solid metal one hundred dubloon coin in his boat had been floating too, and so did all of the other dubloons, and he sat and wondered aloud how in Krawkdom this was possible. Then he wondered where the ‘poink!’ sound came from when he picked them up. Then he realized he should just shut up and suspend his disbelief like a good Krawk; otherwise, his brain would make like a mine and explode.

     And so Dorak rowed off into the sunset without a herd of mines in tow, for once, and he ate a sandwich and sang pirate songs and lived happily ever after -- or at least, for a little while.

The End

 
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