You opened the now useless vacuum cleaner and retrieved your Zork Rocks. …You decided to try switching the machine on, but it couldn’t hold a suction. “Looks like those Zork Rocks fried the machine,” observed Dalboz. “This thing really DOES suck! Leave it here!”
“Gladly,” you replied. You then headed to a drink dispenser and put the Zork Rocks into the slot.
“H-Hey! Didn’t you hear-?!” yelped Grif.
“Oh, don’t tell me you believe that old chestnut about cola making Zork Rocks explode,” scoffed Dalboz.
“I just wanna see,” you replied as you inserted a Zorkmid and pressed the button for Blam Classic. The cola spilled all over the Zork Rocks and…
“Warning! Warning!” came a woman’s voice from the candy! “Presence of cola beverage detected!”
“Uh oh!” you gulped.
“Let’s find a safe home for this stuff, okay?” suggested Dalboz. “These rocks are about to pop in a very big way and I don’t wanna be next to them when they do!” You rushed to the lockers and slid the candy into the one locker with the just-wide-enough gap! “There you go!” sighed Dalboz. “Crisis averted.” You stepped back anyways as you were pretty sure the locker door would be blown off. Your theory was proven correct as the candy exploded and blew the door off.
“…So, just an old chestnut, huh?” you asked Dalboz.
“If cola can make Zork Rocks do that to a locker,” shuddered Grif, “I hate to think about what it would do to someone’s stomach!”
“I wonder who’s locker that was?” you mused as you got closer. You saw a report card that had straight A’s on it. “Must have been a genius who used it.”
“It was! This is MY locker!” cheered Dalboz. “That’s my stuff! My books and my papers and my…my…ooh!” You realized why Dalboz said that as the smell hit your nostrils.
“Oh, Sweet Yoruk!” you gagged.
“I guess I should have washed those gym shorts,” muttered Dalboz. You then took Dalboz’s student ID.
“…Huh. Class of 966, huh?” you asked him.
“Yep!”
“And you were born a hundred fifty years ago?”
“Uh huh!”
“…Neat!” You tucked it away, then headed to the door that made you fail Rezrov. You then saw a card reader. “Hang on…is this for student ID’s?” You pulled Dalboz’s ID out and slid the card through the reader. The door slid open, then another door behind it did the same, then it opened to a cave leading down. “All right!” you decided. “Let’s-!”
“My lantern sense is tingling,” interrupted Dalboz. “Warning me of danger. Oh, and your sword’s glowing too!”
“Huh?” You checked your sword and…yep, it was glowing blue. “…My first monster fight.” You cautiously descended into the cavern and arrived at a gorge with running water, judging by the sound of it. Spanning the gorge was an old, rickety bridge. A sign was next to the bridge, saying that the bridge was protected by the Frobozz Magic Company Purple Beast Alarm System. Someone must have cast Igram on it a while ago as all you could see were six floating swords.
“Bah! Get away from me bridge, you cretin!” shouted the invisible owner of the swords.
“…So someone cast Igram on you before magic was banished?” you asked the creature.
“Yeah!” replied the creature. “That’s how I became the Six-armed Invisible Bridge Guy in the first place!”
“…Maybe unlocking something would help,” suggested Dalboz.
“Right! Rezrov!”
“Rezrov!” Instead of a key click, however, you hear the sound of a zipper!
“OOH!” yelped the Six-armed Invisible Bridge Guy. The swords moved in a way to indicate that the poor guy was holding them under his arms as he was doing something with his other hands. You heard the zipper again and the swords moved again to indicate he had one in each of his invisible hands. “You DON’T mess with a man’s zipper!” Dalboz cackled.
“DUDE!” you protested.
“That was low-hanging fruit!” grumbled Grif.
“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist!” laughed Dalboz.
“Right, Six-armed Invisible Bridge Guy, do you have one eye?” you asked, your face flushed with embarrassment.
“Aye. A fierce battle it was that took me eye!” replied the guy.
“…Do you have one horn?” you asked.
“I used to. Blew into that thing every time I went to battle!”
“…Can you fly?”
“No! I don’t need bloody wings!”
“That’s all I wanna know!” You drew your sword and sliced the ropes holding the bridge up! The bridge collapsed and the Six-armed Invisible Bridge guy screamed as he fell into the water below.
“You gained 86 experience points,” said Dalboz, “and found a healing potion. …Oops. Sorry. Wrong kind of dungeon master.”
“So now what?!” protested Grif. “I’m still stuck in here, otherwise I’d fly us across!”
“Relax, Grif,” you soothed. “We have a little souvenir from Flood Control Dam #3.” You opened up your spell book to make sure you were pronouncing it right and using the right spell for this situation. “Right, GOLGATEM!”
“Golgatem!” replied the choir. An ornate bridge appeared, spanning the length of the gorge. You walked across the well-built bridge to the Spell Lab.
“I like your style!” said Dalboz. “Splendid job!”
“Good thing you bumped that book, then!” chuckled Grif. You entered the spell lab. To your right was a box filled with papers. The sign above it said that they were Beburtt scroll sheets.
“…Handy,” you said. “Now, how did those instructions say…O…M…Yeah! I got it now!”
“Memorized Omrit, huh?” guessed Dalboz. “That’s how we did it back in the day. Good memory trick.” You found a machine that said “Origination” and you slid the paper into it. It flashed a light onto the paper, then you took it out. You then headed to a machine called “Modification”. It looked like a letter press, so you slid the paper under the press. It pressed onto the paper, then released it. Next, you took the paper to a machine called “Replication”. It was some sort of contraption with a spinning wheel. You inserted the paper and the contraption waved some sort of frame over the paper as the wheel spun. After the wheel stopped, you took the paper to a machine called “Interpretation” and realized it…looked like a toaster. You put the paper into the slot, then after a few seconds, it popped the paper out. You then took the paper to a machine called “Transmogrification” which was a bunch of rollers. You put the paper into the machine and the rollers pulled the paper through, then deposited it into a tray.
“That’s the steps for Beburtt!” you cheered.
“Ah ah! Not yet,” interjected Dalboz. “See that machine at the end?” You looked to see some sort of contraption with wheels. “That’s the Spell Checker. Run that scroll through there. You used to have to wait in line for hours to use this thing. I guess we can cut to the front of the line now.” You headed to the Spell Checker and inserted the scroll into the slot on the left-hand side of the machine.
“Spell named ‘Beburtt’ is not yet imbued,” said a woman’s voice. The paper was sucked into the slot. “Imbuing spell,” continued the voice. The paper then returned and a green light flashed. “Imbuing is complete.” You took the scroll and it Gnustoed itself into your spell book!
“The Beburtt spell gives the appearance of inclement weather,” explained Dalboz. “I use it for family reunions.”
“…Wait a minute, that spell we got from the ice cream sandwich!” you realized. You pulled out the wrapper and put it through the Spell Checker.
“Spell named ‘Obidil’ is soggy,” it said as it sucked the wrapper into itself. “Drying spell.” The wrapper then came out and the green light flashed. “Drying is complete.” The spell then Gnustoed into your book! You then checked it and saw that Obidil made the caster more attractive to other creatures. …Other creatures…hang on, maybe you didn’t need Obidil just yet. You crossed the bridge to the nearby teleportation station and inserted the map, scrolled through the destinations until you found the Dungeon Master’s lair, and then took the map out to reveal that you were back at Dalboz’s old house. You then made your way to the snap-dragon. It snapped at you, then you tossed the Prozork tablet into its maw. It then went limp and snored!
“There, there,” soothed Dalboz as it snoozed. “Hush, hush. Let those photosynthetic neuroses just ooze on out of you and-.” You then chopped it off with your sword! “…That just didn’t seem fair!” muttered Dalboz. “Effective, maybe, but terribly unfair.”
“…It just felt right,” you muttered. You then headed back to the Crossroads and made your way to the Umbrella Tree. Maybe Beburtt could help with the blossoms and get that scroll. You checked your spell book and made sure you pronounced it right. “All right, Beburtt!”
“Beburtt!” replied the male choir. The sound of thunder and rain then filled the air and the blossoms pointed upwards and opened, the fatter one dropping the scroll!
“Look! It’s fall!” teased Dalboz. You picked up the scroll and read it. It said it was Zimdor. …It wasn’t Gnustoing into your spell book, however.
“Erm, wha-?” you said.
“The Zimdor spell,” explained Dalboz, “triplicates quantities of intoxicating libations. The Frobozz Magic Alcoholic Beverage Company had it regulated, so it can’t be Gnustoed into your spell book.”
“Makes sense,” remarked Grif. “You want drunken wizards running around?” You then recalled something.
“Dalboz, didn’t you say that your security system had some bad habits?” you asked.
“Yeah, Harry likes a good drink and a cigar.” You then pulled out that can of Mead Lite and looked between it and the Zimdor scroll.
“Mead Lite?” asked Grif.
“Yep, that’s what it is,” you replied.
“Mead Lite?!” scoffed Dalboz. “What kind of a drink is that?! It’d take at least twice what you’ve got to do anything!”
“Or triple,” you replied as you made your way back to the Dungeon Master’s lair.
“Er, not that the wizards of this universe,” gulped Dalboz, “use or condone the use of alcohol or any mind-altering substance in any way, shape, or form.”
“Relax, it’s not for me,” you assured. You then faced Larry and saw the ash tray and birdbath. You poured the Mead Lite into the birdbath, then pulled out the Zimdor Scroll. “Zimdor!” you called.
“Zimdor!” replied the choir as the drink tripled in amount.
“Now you’re talking!” cheered Dalboz. “36 gloops of Mead Lite would besot the heartiest of the hearty!” You then set the cigar into the ash tray.
“Hey, what have we here?” asked Harry as his archway hands reached for the birdbath and the cigar. He then puffed on the cigar. “Ah, nothing like a good stogie.” He then drank the triplicated drink dry. His arms then wobbled…and smacked on the door, opening it! “Wan shom Rye?!” he asked. “Cors ya do!”
“Poor Harry,” sighed Dalboz. “He starts with just one drink. ‘One drink,’ he says. ‘What can one teensy little drink do?’ And then another. And then another! And before you know it, pfff! My house is sloshed on the front lawn!” You then heard him snore. “There, there,” soothed Dalboz. “He’ll sleep it off. Shall we?”
“What’s that buzzing?” asked Grif. You then heard the buzzing Grif was talking about and looked to your left to see…
“A Quelbee hive?!” you yelped. “Those things would sooner saw their wings off than let anyone get at their honey!”
“Very delicate olfactory senses too,” said Dalboz. “Though I doubt that’s helpful to you in any way.”
“I think I’ve seen enough!” you decided as you backed away from the Quelbees’ hive, not wanting to get stung to death. You then entered the house. It was a nice, tasteful, nature-themed house.
“What do you think, eh?” asked Dalboz with pride. “This place had some nice appointments. I’ve always thought it could use a conversation pit, though.”