In Which Our Hero Has an Endless Summer

Well gang, looks like bailing out the Runaway Five was a dead end after all. Still stranded on the tourist-trap land of Summers, Ness and his friends agree to help a salty old Sea Captain who has enough barnacles for brains to sail the treacherous waters to the Scaraban Desert.

All they have to do is convince the Captain’s wayward wife to quit the pretentious Stoic Club and start making her wonderful “magic cakes” again. Simple, right? All they have to do is get a password to get into the Stoic Club. Simple, right? All they have to do is reach the end of the Monkey Caves and find the meditating mystic willing to write the elusive phrase on a banana peel. Simple, right? All they got to do is find a cup of noodles to give to the monkey guarding the path that leads to that monk. Simple, right? All they have to do is find the monkey that wants the slice of pizza that leads to the monkey that wants the picnic lunch and has the protein drink to the… sheesh! This maze is gonna make monkeys out of them first!

Will Ness and his friends ever make it out of Summers before Jeff finally succumbs to full-blown… tourism? Will they employ a metaphysics rigorous enough to successfully engender a gestalt change to thereby elucidate the epistemological obscurity of the physical body of a geological context taking up a great deal of ontology within the Stoic Club (…erm, probably not)? And will they ever get a chance to taste the mysterious, luscious, utterly platonically ideal… magic cake?

Find out on this week’s episode of… The Podcast Against Giygas!

ROCKIN!!!

Transcript

SPEAKER_03: 0:00

You're listening to the podcast against Gaiga. Episode ten, in which our hero has an endless summer. Out of all the people living in, visiting, passing through, or otherwise just loafing around in the pleasant beachside resort town of Summers, Ness was perhaps the only soul there who wished with all his heart that he wasn't. It had been such a long time since he had reached one of the precious sanctuaries and recorded the strange melodies that emerged from them, that he almost forgot that that was the whole point of the grand mission from Buzz Buzz in the first place. He still had no idea what would even happen once the mysterious song that whistled incomplete in the otherworldly red stone in his pocket was finally finished, but to have been away from home for so long, with only half the song to show for it? It made Ness unbearably anxious. And in silence he took it out on the tourists of summers. Oh, must be nice to just sunburn on the beach half the day, then hang around a tiki bar all night. Must be nice to have oodles of spare time and no responsibilities. Must be nice to be an adult. Jeff was faring no better than Ness. The summer's heat was so oppressive that simply eschewing his penguin down lined blazer and keeping his shirt sleeves rolled up was no longer a viable option. He grumbled and groaned and complained and stamped his foot as much as he wanted, but in the end, for his health, he was forced to procure and don at all times a wide-brimmed straw woven hat and a pair of Bermuda shorts. While Ness and Jeff both seethed to themselves over their respective inner turmoils, Paula figured enough was enough and patted Ness on the back. Cheer up. We'll figure something out. We're in a port city, after all. There's bound to be a hundred ships sailing out of here. One of them has to be going to Scaraba. On queue, a salty looking sea captain, silver whiskered, thick around the neck and limbs, and all but chomping on his smelly tobacco pipe, approached the kids with a raised, bushy eyebrow. The man spoke with a very thick and sometimes unintelligible accent from Foggy Land, a region in North America not far from Winters. Good scaraba are ye forgive me for overheating you we lads and lassie, but the way to scaraba's fraught with biting winds, choppy waves, and sharp finged monsters of the deep. I'm the only sea dog on this blasted heath of sand and sun, with enough salt and barnacles for brains to brave those treacherous waves against all sense. Ness couldn't believe his sudden reversal of luck. It seemed too good to be true. Great, let's go then. Nah so fast. I said I can. It's it not but I would you look at that. It was too good to be true. Well I might you see it's uh it's me wife, you see. The captain sighed and looked out wistfully toward the ocean's horizon, almost holding back tears. Ah me. I have the bonniest lass ye ever laid your wee little eyes upon to call me on and only. It was not too long ago I'd sail the very world and back, and come home to me dear wife and her delicious magic kicks. They were the best magic kicks ye ever did taste. But now the captain scowled, blowing out a noxious plume of tobacco through his teeth. Now she spends our living days at that blasted yonder stook club. Um I'm sorry, sir. Did you just say the Stook Club? Not a lad, are you duft? I didn't say the Stook Club. I said the Stook Club. It's been months and I have not seen hide nor hair nor a single lick of frosting of her luscious cakes. You don't expect me to risk these turbulent seas with a broken heart and an empty, cakeless stomach, do you? I say, good captain, perhaps if you granted us passage aboard your vessel, we could make it worth your while. Say an unlimited supply of trout flavoured yogurt? Ugh You don't think I smell fish enough that I need it in my yogurt as well. Nah we ones. If I'm to set sail, I'm afraid only this'll do. Jeff grumbled and snapped his fingers. Paula huddled close to Ness and whispered, I think we should help him, Ness. At least he's definitely offering us a ride if we do. I don't know. I have a bad feeling it's all gonna be a pain in the neck. But then again, it might waste more time if we keep asking around for other ships. Ness nodded and turned his full attention to the captain. Okay, if you agree to take us to Scaraba, we'll get your wife to make uh magic cakes, again, whatever they are. Can you tell us what she looks like? The captain nodded, rolled up a sleeve, and flexed his hulking biceps so hard it made a creaking sound. The tattoo that formed among the bulging muscles' contours showed a pretty young lady, red hair tied back and wearing an apron, bearing a huge cake on a platter, seven layers of cake with each color of the rainbow in between thick layers of glowing golden yellow buttercream. Oh um alright then. We'll be back soon. The sun was shining in summers as usual, but before the children could even start to make hay, they were interrupted by a rather prissy clearing of the throat. They found a boy, about their age as well, dressed in an impeccable livery, and holding a silver platter with a lid before them. Is there among prisoned company one Geoffrey Maximilian Love Lady Winifred upon Avon and Nuts? Jeff looked to his confused friends, utterly mortified, like he found himself in class in just his underwear. Did you really have to involve the mythle names in all this, man? The boy raised the lid off the platter with a flourish, revealing a simple black rotary telephone ringing rather loudly. You have a long distance call from one Jasper Anthony Merriweather Besther Donley. Do you accept? Jasper Anthony would why who in the place is good? Oh, all right then, give it a Jeff picked up the phone and placed the receiver to his ear. Jeffrey Ander's speaking. Jeff, it's me, Tony Tony So that whole mess was your full Christian name. Yeah, sure is a mouthful, isn't it? Well what a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure of your calling upon me? Oh just want to say thanks a million and a half for the postcards. They're right brilliant they are. Say, Jeff, where are you now? Why I am presently in Summers, believe it or not. Summers? Blimey. Are you all right? Are you keeping cool? Are you drinking plenty of water? You're not wearing Bermuda shorts, are you? Do you answer all your questions in the order they were received, towing old boy? Yes, yes, yes, and Jeff sighed and looked to the ground dejectedly. No, of course not. Phew. That's a relief to hear. Be careful, Jeff. We winter spokes simply aren't built for that climate, and Bermuda shorts is the first symptom of a long, slow, painful decline into full blown tourism. Tony shuddered through the phone receiver, and Jeff sighed and rolled his eyes. Anything else I can do for you while I have you on the line? Oh yes, well I also just wanted to take a moment to thank you. Oh come come, it's no trouble at all, and um well anyway, haven't you already uh No no no, not you, Jeffrey. You I beg your pardon. Yeah, that's right. You there, listening in like maybe at work or driving an automobile, riding somewhere on the metro, or maybe just doing little wild jobs around the house. I just want to say thank you for your continued support. I'm sure I can't imagine how hard this journey's been for my best friend Jeffrey and his friends, and how much harder it's going to be down the road. But knowing you're there, listening in, letting them know you believe in them? Well I'm sure it means the whole world to them. Well, thanks again, and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day. Anyway, take care, Jeffrey. Bye bye now. Tony hung up the phone on the other end, and Jeff returned the receiver to the foppish boy. Huh What a curious fellow, that Tony. Well, here you are. I say, you wouldn't happen to be from Winters yourself, would you now? Indeed I am. Born and raised. Go, Chelsea. Jeff immediately soured, looking down his nose at the other boy. Chelsea. I'm sure you meant to say up the arsenal. Now it was the other boy's turn to be scandalized. Arsenal Arsenal indeed I shall take my leave of you at once, good fellow. Do that, good fellow. Jeff kept his gaze on the boy in contempt, as if wary he might come back and sucker punch one of them. But nonetheless the fancy lad made himself scarce. Chelsea. Why the very chink of it? Even though the sea captain barely described the club that was to be their destination, Ness and his friends had almost no trouble finding it. Among the strip of rainbow-colored bistros and novelty shops, there was only one that was grey, geometric, and far less welcoming than the other brightly painted and shingle-roofed cottages, a sore thumb sticking out of the pleasant beach town. It gave off an aura of oppressive dullness, like a library full of books thicker than your fist, and no pictures, of course, run by frowny old ladies just frothing at the mouth for a chance to shush you for the tiniest infractions of noise, or a museum where all the paintings are just paint drippings or solid blocks of one or two colors, and you have to stand there and wait for your parents to finish admiring it when you already got everything out of it like ten minutes ago. It was like school, only you actually chose to go. Every day, even on weekends and summers. The children advanced toward the ugly grey building and noticed a sign above its doors and black art deco. The Stoic Club. Oh the Stoic Club Stoic A doorman dressed in a fine black butler's suit and white satin gloves motioned to the front doors, which Ness tried and found locked shut. Hey, what gives? Sorry, young man, no one is allowed in the Stoic Club. Not now, not ever. Oh man A man in round sunglasses and a black turtleneck sweater emerged from the locked doors. As if leaving a club he was more than welcome to enter and patronize as he pleased. Hey, how did you get in then? No one is allowed in the Stoic Club. Not now, not ever Oh that That's all bunk and nonsense, of course. There's a secret password you have to tell the doorman to let you in. Okay, what's the password? You have to call a secret phone number, only it can tell you. What's the phone number? Heh Oh children, that has to be earned. Yeah, head to the monkey caves and see for yourself. The man gave the kids a brochure and left them with a tiny chuckle. The monkey caves were another little tourist trap a ways off from the seaside resort of summers. A cave which housed, as the name implies, a cadre of tame and playful talking monkeys. For a small entrance fee, guests could photograph themselves, feeding the silly creatures, letting them crawl around their backs, jumping little backflips in midair, and other such little monkey shines. A bit disappointed that in all likelihood no such fun goofs were in store for them, Ness and his friends made the half-hour walk to the cave. Okay, let's hurry up and find the stupid phone number in the stupid cave. How hard could it really be? How hard could it really be? That's an excellent question, Ness. Let's find out together. You see, when the children first entered the cave, there were two monkeys guarding two available pathways, one who wanted a pizza and one who wanted a skip sandwich. Ness and his friends had to turn around and head to the local mock pizza branch nearby the monkey caves and order a plain cheese pizza and the skip sandwich, which is the only sandwich made by the Joltacola Corporation, boasting higher levels of caffeine than any carbonated beverage available and guaranteed to put a pep in your step or your money back. Before heading back to the cave, there was yet another monkey waiting near the entrance, hoarding a pile of king bananas, the plumpest, sweetest, ripest bananas on the market. The monkey warned them that no monkey in the cave whatsoever would want a king banana in exchange for access to another room, and then asked if they wanted one for free. Figuring they'd need space in their backpacks for all the other stuff they'd carried that the monkeys actually wanted, they refused the complimentary fruit and continued. To the monkey on the left they offered the pizza, on the right the sandwich, and both paths being open to them, they took the right first. Another grotto with two paths guarded by monkeys, one on the left who wanted a picnic lunch, and one on the right a protein drink. The children had neither of these things, though a complimentary hot towel in the room was theirs to take. So taking that they turned around and refused yet again a free king banana from the first monkey. Instead, going left to the previous room with a picnic lunch for the taking, where on the left path a monkey wanted another picnic lunch, but the monkey on the right wanted a hot towel. They gave the towel to the right monkey, which led to another room where both monkeys wanted a double cheeseburger. And luckily there was a cheeseburger and a takeout box for the taking, but also, strangely, a common ruler. One of the monkeys warned the kids that if a monkey ever asks for a double cheeseburger, then that monkey will inevitably lead to a dead end with nothing useful. But having the double cheeseburger and figuring what else were they really going to do with it, they gave it to the monkey on the right, which indeed led to a dead end with nothing. Turning back around, they went to the room with the monkeys who wanted the wet towel and picnic lunch and gave the picnic lunch to the monkey who wanted the picnic lunch, which led to a room with another picnic lunch and a monkey who was handing out fresh eggs. Taking the second picnic lunch and an egg, they backtracked to the first grotto, once again refusing the free king bananas from the first monkey, and returned to the room where one monkey wanted a protein drink and another wanted the second picnic lunch. They gave the picnic lunch to the monkey who wanted the picnic lunch, which led to a room with a protein drink for the taking, and a monkey on the left path who wanted a double cheeseburger, and a monkey on the right who wanted a cup of instant noodles. They backtracked to the room with the monkey who wanted the protein drink and gave the protein drink to the monkey who wanted the protein drink, which led to a room with a double cheeseburger for the taking, and a monkey on the left path who wanted to measure his own tail but lacked the means to do so, and a monkey on the right who wanted a fresh egg. They gave the ruler to the monkey on the left, which led to the monkey from the first room, who moved to that room and was still trying to hand out King Banas, which the children once again refused. Backtracking to the earlier room, they gave the fresh egg to the monkey on the right, which led to a room with a cup of instant noodles for the taking, which they did. Backtracking to the room with the monkey on the left who wanted a double cheeseburger and the monkey on the right who wanted a cup of instant noodles, they gave the double cheeseburger to the monkey on the left, which led to a room, to no one's surprise, with nothing. Turning around, they gave the cup of instant noodles to the monkey on the right who wanted a cup of instant noodles. And in the next room, when they finally, finally encountered a monk, head shaved bald, meditating motionless in the lotus position, it had taken the children seven full hours to navigate the cave. Er um are you the one who has the phone number to the Stoic Club? Without moving a single other muscle in his body, the monk extended his arm and opened his hand. I am. And the number shall be yours, if you but cross my palm with a single King Banana. Ness said nothing for a long while. Clenching his teeth, breathing deeply, he dragged both hands across his face. Oh man. Okay, we'll be right back. The children backtracked all the way to the entrance to the cave, forgetting that the monkey hoarding the bananas had moved to the room past the monkey who wanted to measure his own tail, and trekking back to that room they found that monkey still hoarding the bananas. Could we have one of the bananas now? No. What? Why not? You were bothering us the whole time trying to get rid of them. The bananas were for you. When you thought a monkey did not want one, now that you have a great need of them, I am hungry, and I am going to eat them all. That's life sometimes. You're presented with random circumstances and incomplete information, and you just have to make the best of it. Sorry. Ness took in a deep breath, as if pondering this bit of wisdom. You know what? That's a great lesson, and I'm very glad you shared it with me. When I head back to the beach resort, I'm going to have a whole lot to think about for a long long long while. Thank you, Mr. Monkey, sir. The monkey nodded and went back to eating the big bananas, as Ness and his friends slowly, pensively walked away. Ness then turned to Paula and whispered, did you get one? Yep. They trekked back to the meditating monk and offered him the banana. He unpeeled the fruit, gulped it down in three big bites, and then, on the fleshy side of the peel, wrote with a pen a phone number in big digits and gave the thing to the fruit. Ness. The slimy peel in his hand, Ness then noted that the monk was sitting next to a little black rotary phone. Thanks. Say, could we use your phone? No. The monk returned to his meditative position without another word. The children were absolutely exhausted from the ordeal, and had no choice but to spend the night before even attempting the stupid number. Morning came to Summers, as it usually does, and Ness plunked a quarter into a payphone. Hello. You've reached the Stoic Club password hotline. Hey, you're that monk guy from the cave. No, I'm not. Yes, you are. All right, fine. I am. What's your point? I bet you're talking to me on that stupid phone you wouldn't let me use. I can neither confirm nor deny that. Oh you couldn't have just told me the password when we were in the cave. No. Why not? Because you didn't ask for the password. You asked for the phone number to the password hotline. Oh man! Fine, what's the password? Ask, and it shall be yours. After a small membership fee of a hundred dollars a month. What? A hundred dollars? No, no. A hundred dollars a month. It's a subscription service, you see. Oh man! Mess slammed the receiver on the hook. Can you believe that? Jeez, what a scam! Come on, guys, there's gotta be another sea captain around here. It's not worth all this. Nest, old boy. I don't mean to unduly influence your decision making, but nonetheless I put it to you that the situation has become dire. I am currently wearing a silken buttoned-down shirt positively overrun by Tropical Flora. Not to mention these d what do you call these ghastly things? Flip flops? Ness gave Jeff a good look and flinched. It was true, in exactly the way he just said. The illness was metastasizing. Oh, all right. I'm sorry it's taken so long, Jeff. Let's just get this over with then. Ness sighed, plunked in some more quarters, and dialed a number to Tokyo. Dad, I need your credit card info to sign up for a subscription membership service or whatever that's$100 a month so I can get into the Stoic Club because I tried to bail out the Runaway 5 by doing what you said and going to the Diamond Caves to get the treasure, but it was only a treasure for science, but we found a diamond anyway and bailed out the runaway five out of their contract, but it didn't work because they were never actually going to Scaraba. So instead we went to a maze in a monkey cave and got the number to call for a password to get in, and I called it and to get the password. I have to sign up so I can get into the club so I can find someone who makes magic cakes so she can make the cakes again, so her husband who's the sea captain can sail us on a ship to Scaraba. Um okay. That's fine. As long as uh you understand all that. Just do me a favor, when you leave that place, cancel the membership for me. I don't want my card tied up with that for too long. It sounds uh what's the word I'm looking for? Stupid? Yeah, that's it. It sounds kind of stupid. Ness said thanks until next time to his dad, then called the hateful monk in the monkey's cave once again, provided the necessary credit card numbers, and in exchange was told there is no password for three minutes. Basically what that meant was the three children had to stand before the locked doors of the Stoic Club and make not a sound, not a single peep for three whole minutes. Keeping in theme with all the other stupid things that happened during their stay in summers, Smid figured that the password would be the stupidest password he ever heard in his life too. Nonetheless, the children stood before the doors and remained silent, starting now. Yes, unfortunately, on the one minute mark of the prescribed three minutes of silence, Ness accidentally sneezed, and they had to attempt the password all over again. Starting now, that will do, children. Welcome to the Stoic Club. Finally, after days of backtracking and nonsense, they finally entered the imposing brutalist club and found not really anything of note. A few sparse tables, a bar, and most of the club's members standing around and contemplating a rock on a pedestal, cordoned off by velvet ropes, the whole thing a little bigger than a bread box. It really wasn't even that impressive of a rock. No crystals or jagged edges or anything cool like that. Despite its underwhelming form, it did not stop a lot of the adults gathered around it from saying things like: It really is an amazing piece.

SPEAKER_01: 29:51

It's like everything is there. Except for the things that aren't there.

SPEAKER_02: 29:58

Or didactically speaking, seminal evidence seems to explicate the fact that your repudiation of entropy supports my theory of space-time synthesis. Of this I am irrefutably confident.

SPEAKER_03: 30:14

Ness sampled to the bar and plopped down on a stool with the world weariness of a man forty years older than him. A pleasant-looking bartender approached him with a warm smile. Hello there. Nice to meet you. I'd love to have a chat with you today. I'll talk about my adventures, and you can tell me about all your mistakes. Ness glared at the man. Rupier, plenty of ice. Leave the bottle. Apologies, young man. We only serve mineral water at this bar. The bartender took it upon himself to serve a glass to Ness, who gulped it down with one sitting and let out a satisfying ah. Say, do you know someone around here who bakes cakes? Well, sure. I bake cakes. So do you. We're all baking a cake, really, building one sugary, sweet, and fluffy layer of our personal identity after another, baking it in the oven to rise, glazing it all over with a pleasant layer of frosting over and no, no, no, I mean Oh man. I mean someone who literally is a baker of dessert cakes. Uh oh. Um oh yes. I believe she's up there, contemplating the rock. Ness looked behind him and groaned. Everyone was contemplating the rock. Thankfully, there was one young woman who stood out due to his remembering what she looked like on the big burly sea captain's tattoo. Paula took Ness aside and whispered, Ness, listen, I know it's been hard getting here, but try a little sincerity. It's all irony and posing and being interesting and cool around here. But if you hit them with real sincerity, they won't have any defenses for that. Try to remember when you were just a little homesick and needed someone to listen to you. Maybe in a way, she's just homesick, too. Ness took a moment to meditate on this. Something about it, despite the utter rage that the stupid past couple days coaxed out of him, not only made sense to him, it kind of helped him calm down. Work to exhaustion when you're young, after all, and make hay while the sun shines. Still, without really knowing what either of those phrases meant, but gleaning strength and confidence from them all the same, he approached the lady in the middle of talking to some other doofus in a sweater and big glasses, and tapped her on the shoulder. Well, I don't see a rock, really. Uh I see a hypersocial matrix of a very gender contemporary paradigm. Of course, if we refer back to Whimsett and Beardley in their seminal text, Well, I see something immutable, indestructible, like the infinite capacity of mankind's greed, or the imperviousness of the capitalistic system that has yoked us all. Oh, you mean you can't envision the final collapse of capitalism? That's a little embarrassing for you to admit. Oh hello, little boy. Can I help you? Excuse me, Miss, I have kind of a strange question, but did you used to bake magic cakes? Well yes, but that was a long time ago. Say, how did you know, Miss? Could you tell me what a magic cake is? Well, it's an attempt at the platonic ideal of a cake. A cake of Babel, if you will, a cake that dares to reach out and touch the hand of God in his highest heaven. A cake that arranges all the major flavors and symphonic harmony, a cake that sings like the old music of the spheres. That's what gives it that rainbow look you see. That sounds really neat. I have a favor to ask. Could you make one for us? I never tried one before, and I'd really like to. Ness was surprised to realize in that moment that he meant every word he was saying to the young lady. Everything else, the fuss and bother with getting into the club, the long delay in summers costing them precious time to get to the sanctuary, the pressure over whether they even could or could not convince this lady to help them, even any of his still lingering personal inadequacies he might have still perceived in himself since that sad walk on the road along the Dusty Dunes desert. All of that vanished, and the only pressing thought on his mind was how weird and wonderful a magical cake must really be. Oh, I don't know. It was years ago, and there's just no search for the truth in baking. That sort of thing is all Maya, a illusion. This, on the other hand, this is the rock of the real. Well, did you like baking? Seems like a shame to give it up if it made you happy. Being happy has nothing to do with it. Being happy isn't philosophical. Jeff cleared his throat and helpfully chimed in. I say, madam, if you refer to the tenets of Epicurus, the highest aim in life is to seek out pleasure in an uncaring universe. That is legitimate philosophy. He's right. My mom and dad always said you should find something you love to do and spend the rest of your life doing it, because life's too short. That's why when I grow up I want to be a professional baseball player. A shortstop, I think. A baseball player, huh? Well, I'm on the fence between that or Olympic swimmer, but we'll see. Ness's words had a deep effect on the young woman. She couldn't believe it. Here was finally someone who had no thesis to prove, nor any wish to condescendingly explain a thesis of her own. No challenges for debate or appeals to logical fallacies, not even a plea to return to her dear husband, as much as she did genuinely miss him. Here was just a plain old simple boy who just wanted to know what a plain old simple magic cake tasted like. It made her remember herself years ago, when the same insatiable curiosity that burned unending in her heart led her to learn all she could about the baking of mystical cakes. She rose from her seat, threw away her beret and horn-rimmed lensless glasses, and made a beeline to the door. That's it. I don't need to gaze into my own soul. My soul is a great big magic cake. Come on, kids, let's get baking. The baker set up a small kiosk on the beach right before the sand, her now much happier sea captain husband by her side, and had a fresh batch of delicious magic cakes ready for the children to try. Since the meeting at the Stoic Club, the baker said she needed a day or two to get the necessary tools and ingredients, and also to get back into her baking groove, as it had been years and she had most likely gotten rusty. Two days later, the cakes were finally ready for mass consumption. Ness and Paula were, of course, anxious to try the curious dessert, but just as anxious to finally complete the missing piece of the puzzle that allowed them immediate passage to Scaraba and the continuance of their mission from God, as old Monatoly charmingly referred to it before. Jeff, on the other hand, had fully succumbed to the illness he had caught when he first crash landed in Summers. While they waited to be served their cakes, Paula regarded her friend with alarm. Oh my goodness, Jeff! Your glasses are so dark. You have some whack goop on your nose, and your shoes are gone. Jeff flipped up the clip-on darkened shades of his glasses and gave Paula a weird, uncharacteristically open-mouthed and toothy smile. SPF 500 Sunblock. 98% photochromic tinted and polarized sun lenses. And I much rather prefer being barefooted from now on. After all, what is it you Eagle landers like to say? No shoes, no problem. He let out a delirious laugh and wiggled his skinny toes in the sand. It finally happened. Multicolored flowers invaded his loose-fitting silk shirt and baggy shorts like a viral infection. His eyes spun around as he ambled listlessly and spoke in slow, slurred speech. He had nothing in particular to do and nowhere in particular to go. He had become a beach bum, a sun child, a sand flea, a seashell comer, a surf rat, a perfectly smooth piece of driftwood just lying where the waves break against the shore. He had become a tourist. Hang in there, Jeff. We'll have some cake and then we're off. We'll get you back to normal in no time. No, Rush. I quite like it here. Why, I doubt I shall ever, ever leave. The young lady finally served each of the children a nice thick slice of magic cake. Ness's fork glided through the dessert like butter, and he shoved a bite of all seven colored layers into his mouth. It was true, a medley of all the tasty colored flavors cherry, orange, lemon, lime, blueberry, raspberry, and grape, all held together by a luscious honey sweet glowing golden frosting. It more than lived up to its name. Hmm. This is incredible. Oh, thank you, children. I'm so glad you like it. Now, when can we set a course for Scaraba? We've already been here for so long. There isn't a moment to lose. The captain and his wife gave each other a curious look, then gently laughed at Nessa's question. Oh, silly boy, you just had a slice of magic cake. You're not going anywhere for a long, long while. What? That's right, you wee lad. Everyone knows if you want to be like the Locals around here, you shove a nice big helping of magic cake down your gullet. That's right, children. Now just sit back and wait for the magic cake to kick in. Ness and Paula looked at each other in dread, while Jeff cracked a little smile. That's it, old boy. See what I see. Feel what I feel. The magic cake glided along their tongues and into their stomachs nice and smooth, and a warm, tingly feeling hit them in an instant. They saw the whole rainbow swirling around them, the kids themselves, the baker, her husband, the whole summer's resort, all emitted a kaleidoscope of new reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues, pinks, and purples. Pretty soon even recognizable shapes and things vanished, and all their perception was a spiral of wild colours.

SPEAKER_00: 40:56

Oh man.

SPEAKER_03: 41:10

You've been listening to The Podcast Against Geigas. The Podcast Against Geigas is an audiobook written and performed by me, Garrett McMahon, based on Earthbound, the Super Nintendo game directed by Shige Sato Itoi, with production by William Pulowski, and thumbnail design and art direction by David Peters. This podcast stinks. It is also a fan-made project affiliated in no way whatsoever with the Nintendo Corporation or Mr. Itoi. This podcast is free to listen to, ad free, and always will be.