Hi, folks! Last week I posted in some panic from the middle of an ocean. Today I’m happy to report that my froggy companion and I have found safe harbor!
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Sure, I’m being a bit flexible with the word “safe.” I don’t usually use that word to describe situations where I’m in immediate danger of being beaten to death.
Don’t get me wrong; this is a beautiful island. Stunning, really, picture-perfect. It couldn’t be nicer if it’d been painted by professional artists. And believe me, after nine days on an decreasingly magical raft, putting the ol’ hooves on dry land is a desperately needed relief.
Unfortunately, some of the locals need some lessons in how to make shipwrecked strangers feel welcome. If you want folks to recommend your island to their friends, you probably shouldn’t attack them with fire and pestilential swarms the moment they show their faces. It’s simple common sense.
Nonetheless, the local tiki demon-chiefs don’t seem to have gotten the memo from their tourist board, so they’ve been blasting us nonstop with bolts of magical energy and never-ending lines of balls:
Thank goodness my froggy friend has taken the situation in hand. I don’t know how he figured it out, but apparently if you line up orbs of similar colors, they’ll disappear. That, coupled with my companion’s rather startling ability to create and spit out a seemingly infinite number of colored balls, has kept us what I’ll call “safe.” BUT FOR HOW LONG?