Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!
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The Fruitcake Adventure
By Cow Face, at the Face Residence
Dear reader, I would like to tell you a story. With the Harvest Festival and Frostval coming at this time of year, the general feeling in the air is that of giving, of sharing. And in this spirit, I would like to share with you a tale of one past Frostval, which I spent mainly in the company of a fruitcake.*
Now, don't get me wrong. I've heard from various sources, including my father, that fruitcake can be quite delectable... IF it is prepared properly. Unfortunately, many people have been sorely disappointed by the fruitcakes which they have received, having turned out to be both inedible and indestructible.** Most of these stories I laughed off as gross exaggerations, having never at the time received one. Little did I know that someone, somewhere (I suspect the Dragon Mafia had a hand in this), holds a sick vendetta against me.
Much like now, I was enjoying an extended stay at my home, the editors having released me back into my natural habitat for the winter. I had just settled my brains for a long winter's nap, when suddenly there came a tapping, as if by someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. Fortunately, I recalled that I do not, in fact, have chambers, so my mind was put at ease, and I answered the front door. You can understand my confusion when there was no-one there, and I nearly shut the door and went back to bed. Sadly, I had no such luck, and instead noticed a small package on the step. It was wrapped in beautiful paper, and addressed to me, with no sender's name. I can only assume that this was for their own protection. For, when I opened it, I stared balefully at the sneering fruitcake inside.
"Surely," thought I, "there's been a mistake. People don't send fruitcakes anonymously- such a thing should be done to one's face!" However, I allowed my more generous nature to shine through, and decided to give it a try. Who knew, maybe I would like it!
Sometimes, dear reader, I think myself a fool.
Taking the cake back to the kitchen counter, I took out a butter-knife and attempted to slice into it, as I might have any confection of a more docile nature. Nothing happened. Not an indentation was made into the thing. Chuckling nervously, for I saw this as an ill omen, I took out a steak-knife and tried again. It stuck into the cake with a chung!, but dealt no other damage. Desperate to slay the beast, I called up a Chainsaw Sneevil who owed me some money, and had him take a slash at the fruitcake. Once his chainsaw broke, I declared his debt paid, and carried him out of the door before his loud complaints disturbed anyone sleeping.***
Arms akimbo, I contemplated the problem before me. Not wishing to simply lick the cake, I found that I could not taste it; such required first cutting into it. As this was impossible, there was no choice for me but to try to find someone else who might want it. So, in the cold winter night, I set out for the town of Battleon, to see if the denizens of the local inn would like it.
Bursting through the doors, I found Yulgar sitting at the fireplace, swapping stories with Robina. To myself, I thought, "Aha! Two possible targets." Painting a broad smile on my face, I approached them, keeping the fruitcake behind my back. "Yulgar! It's a nice night, isn't it?" He raised an eyebrow, but otherwise made no comment. Somehow, he must have been on to me. I plowed on nonetheless, utilizing every trick of persuasion I knew. "Want a fruitcake?" I asked, holding it out for inspection. I never was much good with persuading people.
Yulgar took it from me reluctantly, and I thought myself free. My hopes were dashed, though, when he returned it, shaking his head. "Sorry," he said, "can't make a weapon out of it. No handle would be able to penetrate that thing, metal or not." When I suggested that he perhaps eat it, he just laughed. I didn't know he had that much lungpower, even for such a big man. Next I turned to Robina (having been unaware of her evil conspiracy at the time, I wasn't going to merely force it upon her), but she just drew her bow. I decided to see who else might want it.
Twig lost interest when I said it had neither fish nor ice cream. Bishop Finch started fingering his dagger as soon as I presented the thing, so I climbed back down to Blackhawke, who threatened to throw me in the shower if I came too close. Thinking this was a great idea, I opened the door and tossed the fruitcake inside. Promptly, a tentacle opened the door, beat me about the head and shoulders with the fruitcake, and deposited it in my arms, before agitatedly slamming the door. Dazed, I stumbled down the stairs. I would have been alright, had I not fallen on the fruitcake at the bottom.
With the world spinning about me, and sure I had broken something****, I went in to ask Aquella. Before I could open my mouth, Sage Uldor interrupted me. "You are here to offer me a token of great evil," he murmured. "Begone." After this discouraging reception, I decided that my solution obviously lay elsewhere. Elsewhen, to be exact.
I don't know what I would have done if Wrinkle's Time Machine Rental hadn't been open. Well, it wasn't, in all truthfulness. I got there right as the owner, Wrinkle, was leaving, and managed to convince him to loan me a machine. To accomplish this, I utilized the arts of, ah, "strategic donations," and clinging to his leg, moaning piteously. As soon as I was leased the machine, I rushed inside and set the time. I had to go to a time when fruitcake might not have been known. Three-thousand years seemed about right. Setting the dial, I waited as I was warped to my destination.
Stepping out onto the paved streets of Soluna City, I found that I had made an inexact teleport time; I had actually arrived in the middle of a Frostval celebration. Among the cheery G.E.A.R.S. University students, I thought that maybe a gift would be appreciated, no matter how inedible it was. After receiving several odd looks, I stood upon the fruitcake package- nothing could harm it- and announced that I was a visitor from the future, here to enlighten them with a wonderful invention known as fruitcake. This earned me more strange looks, but I took no notice. Slowly, dramatically, I lifted the fruitcake from the package. I held it reverently out to them, as if it were something fragile- something like a major award. Choruses of laughter greeted me.
"Well, Mr. Enlightenment," guffawed one student, "that's a nice bit of weaponry you have. We've got enough as it is, though." He examined my blank stare, and jerked a thumb back at his mech. "That's not a cake. That's artillery." After wiping the tears from his eyes, he pressed the fruitcake back into my numb hands. "Keep it. Nice of you to- heh- offer, though. Have a nice Frostval!" With that, they returned to chatting amongst themselves, and I reluctantly trudged back to my machine, and my own time.
As I sit writing this, the holiday season's charm comes to mind. Already, I can see in my mind's eye the presents under the tree, brought by MOGLNs trying to make us believe that they are indeed good. Whenever I see these gifts, brought to try to trick us into a false sense of security, my mind returns to the mysterious person who brought me that fruitcake so long ago. I guess two morals come to mind.
It is better to give than to receive.*****
And if you see someone sneaking outside your house with a fruitcake, call the authorities.
This is Cow Face, wishing everyone to have a wonderful, fruitcakeless holiday.
__________
* Many of you probably think that I am the fruitcake. I hasten to assure you, however, that I am far more desirable to have around. Please don't ask the editors to vouch for this statement, however.
** As for me, the closest I've tasted is a fruitcake cookie. I was in grief counseling for several weeks after this experience.
*** Luckily, the chainsaw was amazingly quiet.
**** Not the fruitcake, sadly.
***** In the case of fruitcake, good luck with that.
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