Why I Don't Do Drugs: part III

This is the third installment of "Why I Don't Do Drugs", a tale of prolific proportions and upset tummies. And now to briefly recap...

The Hero: nameless wanderer through trackless wastes, hottish deserts, comic horrors, and underground kingdoms. Ever driven by burning heartburn, we now find him leaving the Desert of Excruciating Prose and entering a sunlit plain. 

The hero began walking across a delightfully embracing turf. In the stillness, he tried to ignore a just apparent squeak coming from his left boot. They were good boots, perhaps the best, purchased at Gillian's Clogs for Mucky Places. Gillian was going to hear about the creaking boot on his return. Our hero hummed vaguely to block the sound, yet it began to echo. Exasperated, he knelt to examine the boot. As he drew closer to the enchanting turf, a voice sighed...

"Aaaarrren't you hungry?"

With cattish reflexes, our hero rolled to the right while drawing his sword - an impossible feat. Another voice spoke.

"What! not eaten since the 4.6 headed dragon?"

The hero shuddered and spoke an epithet under his breath, "This is an accursed place, a Suggestive Land."

For those of you who have forgotten the ancient lore, and who among us hasn't, we must digress for a moment to learn an epic mythological tale. Sadly, we haven't time for many details.

As the story-tellers say, the Suggestive Land is where Marketing Types are born and raised before entering the world of man. Although we know it as the Suggestive Land, that name came into use only after the Great Marketing Campaign, a most hideous ancient war begun by the Marketing Types. The native inhabitants of this land, a particularly moroseless form of fungal growth, have always called it Enjoyment. 

Long years ago, while there was a measure of peace between Enjoyment and Mankind, there had been a monumental sign posted at the border. "Enter and Enjoy" the sign had cheerfully pronounced in blazing neon. A very few noticed and even less read a black smudge on the bottom of the sign, casually mistaken for a misplaced apostrophe. This was of course the fine print, and it said, "Forever Need."

While the learned disagree over the outcome of the war - which has passed into mythology anyway - most Wortlanders believed that they won, or at least that it wasn't properly resolved. But a growing minority are beginning to suspect that the Marketing Types not only won, but are in fact Wortland's Overlords today. Some have gone so far as to point to the musty fungal halls of Statistical Study & Sociological Planning as proof that the mythical war was and is reality today. 

Fortunately our hero appreciates the old stories. He was well aware of the tremendous danger. Reaching inward, he searched out his inner monk and as his mind settled he felt something in his hand. Grimacing he threw the sleek, desirous "Pewter Tablet XP" as far as a hero can. It's silver and AliceBlue colours glinted in the bright sun as it arced to the horizon, sexy even in flight. The hero exhaled, for though their powers are muted in our world, in the Suggestive Land itself giving an inch will forfeit your mind and will instantly.

Travelling on, the hero came across a marvellous Hue of Green, empty but for a lone fence with neither beginning or end. Driven to distraction by the Hue, our hero climbed the fence noting that the Green grew ghastly as he did so. Turning around on the other side, another endless fence stood in his way. Irritated, the hero turned back to the fence he had just climbed over. Nothing stood there, and a chill settled on him. Too late he recalled the ancient aphorism: "Greener still the other side. On and on you will climb."

Trapped in the Hue, the hero searched desperately for an escape. Perhaps urged by a deeper force, he again scaled the fence in front of him. Now the Green became remarkably crushing. Still another fence waited on the other side, and behind him stood a nothingness greater than a Wortlander can bear. Our hero fought to think through the Green, and while he struggled Nearly the Worst Thing he had ever seen came ambling over. It looked at the hero with a grimace which passed for a smile. 

"Halt hero," it muttered, not being aware of other greetings. "Why are you crossing the fence?"

Remembering his manners, which is difficult when a question irritates you, the Hero spoke in his best monotone. 

"I am doomed. Forever crossing will be my future. Forever doomed."

At this point the Worst Things in the world happily draw most people into a screaming match, and that is the end. But this was now Nearly the Worst Thing, and besides, it was preoccupied with its nails. Thinking that perhaps it noticed a damaged cuticle, it shuffled off. Our Hero watched it leave, and with nothing better to do began to follow. As he did so, the Hue of Green vanished around him, and the hero sensed that something important had happened. Sitting down he wrote out a truism on the spot. I would tell you what it is, but such things are usually forgotten for hundreds of years before they become useful.

With the disappearance of the Hue, the hero crossed into the Realm of Desire. While the naming of such things may be unabashedly asinine, it still remains that the Realm of Desire contains only two things: a beach, and a restless ocean. While going from a Suggestive Land to a place with only sand and salt water might not seem like a good thing at first glance, you must pause for a moment. Desire, be it good or bad, is not the same influence as creating need; it is most often an internal reflection. Thus, while our hero walked the beach he could not help but think back to the Starlight Maiden. 

Of course his thoughts were immediately interrupted. His stomach, which had been sunning on a Beach in Malibu, returned with a load of tacky souvenirs and immediately began to complain bitterly about going from one beach to another. The pain was quite stunning. So when I tell you that he stumbled into the ocean for no particular reason and promptly drowned, you mustn't judge him. He was quite blinded by the agony.