Here, disguised as the Memoirs of Guybrush Threepwood, is the complete story of Curse of Monkey Island, with every puzzle solution spelled out blatantly. Let's face it, if you wanted to play fair, you wouldn't be a pirate, you'd be an ethical philosopher. And ethical philosophers don't get to wear silk shirts and say "Yo ho" a lot (unless they live on the West Coast).
The last thing I expected was to find myself LeChuck's prisoner again, especially being held captive by the cutest, wimpiest pirate I'd ever seen. I told him he didn't frighten me, and asked if his beard was real. Halfway through his explanation about the beard, I recognized him-Wally, the cartographer, and former fellow prisoner in LeChuck's dungeon. Apparently LeChuck had recruited him using some kind of phony pirate training racket, but I told him I wasn't in the mood for sales hype. What was more, I thought he was a fake pirate. He threatened to shoot me, and I told him to go ahead. As I suspected, the pressure was too great, and he collapsed in tears. I hated to do that to Wally, but I had a girlfriend to rescue.

Pirates are supposed to steal anything that isn't nailed down (it's the Pirate Code), so I picked up Wally's discarded hook and took the ramrod from the wall. The noise of battle outside stirred my privateer blood, so I hurried to try out the cannon and maybe knock off some of LeChuck's undead crew.

There were four shiploads, and I sent them all to Davy Jones's safe deposit box. This left a lot of litter floating around in the water. When I looked out the cannon port, I saw part of a skeleton arm and a skull floating on a board. The skull was still talking, bragging about how evil it was. I thought the skeleton arm would make a cool decoration for my room, but the only thing I had to fetch it with was the ramrod, and it wasn't long enough. Then I thought of attaching the hook to the ramrod, making a gaff, and the skeleton arm was mine.

I peeked back inside to see how Wally was doing. Still crying. I checked out my cool skeleton arm and found I had a cutlass, as well. I tried it out on the cannon restraint rope, and it worked just fine. I decided to fire the cannon one more time.

I didn't know LeChuck was holding his voodoo cannonball at the time. As the impact of the unrestrained cannon pushed me backward through the door, it also caused him to drop the ball, capsizing his ship and burning him down to the boots.

I came to in his treasure hold. The ship had capsized and sunk partially; fortunately the treasure hold was still afloat. I just didn't have any way out. I looked around, but the only thing steal (that might not weigh me down if I had to swim for it) was a bag of wooden nickels. Behind it, though, lay a huge diamond ring-a perfect engagement ring for Elaine. It also provided a cutting tool I could use on the porthole-a fine idea except for a little detail called water pressure. The force slammed me against the wall. After regaining consciousness, I floated to the surface and swam to shore.
 When I spotted the beauteous Elaine waiting for me on the beach, I thought my luck finally had turned. I'd just presented her with the ring when Wally showed up. He'd been thrown clear of the ship, and was delighted to hear we were engaged-until he saw the ring. He recognized it as a cursed ring belonging to LeChuck. Barely had he revealed this when there was an odd flash and weird background music, and my fiancée turned into a golden statue. I always said Elaine was good as gold, but this wasn't what I had in mind. I felt like punishing myself, so I picked up a glowing ember from a nearby wrecked boat, tucked it into my pocket (yeow!) and staggered into the jungle.

Soon I found myself in an eerie swamp, standing before a bridge made entirely of bones, looking down a torchlit path at what appeared to be some kind of house made from a wrecked ship. The bridge was fronted by a grisly arch decorated with skulls. As I started across the bridge, I was startled (you would have been, too) by a bone-chilling "boo-o-o" from one of the skulls on the arch. It was Murray, the skull I'd seen outside LeChuck's ship. He saw himself as the advance man for the forces of evil that would soon envelop the earth-or he would be, if he could just get down from the arch and find some means of mobility. He was so irritating, I knew I'd probably run into him again. But my despair so consumed me I continued across the bridge and into the ship.

It was rather homey inside, in an Early-Voodoo-Colonial kind of way. Someone had been making paper voodoo dolls. They were kind of cute. I picked up the paste(you never know when you'll need some paste) and started to pick up the pins as well, but when I picked up the first one, I got the strange sensation of a deformed little man on a distant island who suddenly felt great relief from pain. It was too weird, and I decided I didn't want any more pins. For some reason, there was an old-fashioned gum machine on a workbench. I tried one of my wooden nickels in it. It worked, and I got a great big pack of delicious steak-flavored gum.

Then I turned to the stuffed alligator. Of all the stuffed alligators I'd seen used as interior decorating motifs over the years, I'd never seen one with its tongue hanging out. It was irresistible. I had to pull it. When I did, I heard a wrenching of gears, and I was suddenly confronted with an island woman in a turban sitting on a grotesque throne of bones. She looked vaguely familiar. I complimented her on her decorating skills, and after a brief chat, it occurred to me that someone with a knowledge of voodoo might know how to lift the curse on Elaine. I told her my sad story, and the woman mentioned something I'd neglected to consider: I'd left an unguarded solid gold statue on an open beach on an island populated by pirates. Oops.

Sure as monkeys have fleas, Elaine had been statue-napped (as I was to learn shortly) by the pirates of Danjer Cove. When I returned crestfallen to the Voodoo Lady, she said that, although she couldn't lift the curse on the ring, she knew how to free Elaine from it: Replace it with an uncursed diamond ring of equal value. When I asked where I could find such a thing, she said one lay on Blood Island. She also told me she foresaw that Blood Island was where I would die. Somehow, I didn't feel that lifting the curse would do me much good if I was dead, so I asked if she knew of suitable rings anywhere else. She insisted that the power of love in the Blood Island ring made it the best one for lifting the curse.

I'd never heard of Blood Island, so I asked her the way there. The Voodoo Lady said I would need a map, a ship, and a crew. That made sense to me, so I said, "Blood Island, here I come!" Of course I remembered to thank her for her help- you don't want to cheese off the Voodoo Lady.
 I needed a long walk to think it all over. (Need new diamond. Need map, ship, crew. Map, ship, crew. Imminent death...scary. Easier to find new girlfriend? Probably not...map, ship, crew), so I walked over to East Pollo to check out downtown. There was a lovely fountain and an impressive building-the Long John Silver Center for the Performing Arts. I've always had an interest in the theater, so I decided to check it out. The front door was locked, so I went in the side entrance and found myself in a dressing room. I noticed a trunk with a Blood Island sticker. Perhaps someone in this theater had been there. I noticed a handsome pirate coat on a stand-unfortunately, not my size-that, when I looked closer, had a little dandruff on the collar. I tried to pick up the dandruff and found, to my disgust, that it was lice. Hoping to find something more useful in the pocket, I opened it and found a glove. (How could one hope to succeed in entertainment wearing only one glove?) On the dressing table lay a magic wand and top hat. I picked up the wand, waved it over the hat, and presto! A ventriloquist book? Well, it might prove useful...

I wandered onstage and found a Shakespearean actor declaiming. I asked him about Blood Island. He told me to consult his agent, Palido, at the Brimstone Beach Club. This might be helpful if only I knew where the Beach Club was. As I was leaving the theater, I passed the mirror in the dressing room. I noticed my hair was looking a little shaggy, so I set sail for the Barbery Coast, a barber shop on the east edge of town.

Inside were three pirate barbers-Edward "Snugglecakes" Van Helgen, Cutthroat Bill, and Haggis MacMutton. Haggis was working on a customer, and a nasty one at that-the wretched Captain Renee Rottingham, who would make my life miserable in the days to come. I disliked him from the start, so I took the opportunity to use the lice from the theater on the comb Haggis was using on him. This got Rottingham ejected from the shop, and none too soon.

I'd noticed a pair of scissors in the ceiling beam. Because I thought they might come in handy, I took possession of the barber chair, hoping for a chance to grab the sheers. But when I tried to raise the chair using the handle on the side, Haggis quickly lowered it again. I'd have to distract him. He was consulting a hairstyle book held open by a large rock paperweight. I carefully raised the chair one notch and grabbed the paperweight. That was enough to get Haggis to leave in search of another rock, and I took the opportunity to raise the chair to its maximum height and grab the scissors. When he returned, I was afraid he might notice they were missing, so I canceled my haircut.

While in the shop, I checked out the other pirate barbers to see if they were crew material. Cutthroat Bill, though sucking on some candy, seemed a hearty sort, so I clapped him on the back. He seemed afterward to have some difficulty swallowing, so I gave him another stout blow, which dislodged the jawbreaker. I picked up the jawbreaker and, taking advantage of his gratitude, asked him to join my crew. Because he felt that any captain he served under would have to be able to find gold, and because I had none, he wouldn't go with me. Hmm.

Van Helgen, on the other hand, was a seasoned duelist and considered himself something of a gentleman, so his captain had to challenge him like a gentleman and beat him in a duel. I happened to have a glove handy, so I used it to slap Van Helgen. We quickly proceeded to the dueling ground, and he directed me to choose my weapon from three sets of dueling pistols. I closed the lid on the center pistol box and discovered a banjo case. As far as I knew, no one had ever been fatally wounded by a banjo (though many, hearing the banjo, wished they had been), so I chose the banjo. Imagine my surprise when I discovered Van Helgen was an expert banjoiste.

He mostly vamped a simple chord progression that was easy enough to follow, but he picked out some individual notes almost randomly. To copy him, I found it simpler to concentrate on picking out those notes. I was unfamiliar with banjo tuning, so I assigned the banjo strings the numbers 1 through 5 (from the top down). Van Helgen would play four notes, wait for me to copy, then five, then six. By watching his fingers carefully and remembering the number sequence, I passed his test quickly.

Then Van Helgen launched into a brilliant riff totally beyond my abilities. There was no choice: I had to beat him if I wanted him on my crew, so I picked up a pistol and shot his banjo. This convinced him I was unscrupulous enough to be his captain, and I had my first crew member.
He returned to the barber shop, but I was hungry, so I wandered west toward the Chicken Shack. West of the Shack, near some dye vats, I noted a path marked "Danjer Cove." I remembered the Voodoo Lady had said this was where the pirates who'd kidnapped Elaine hung out, so I started down the path. But undergrowth and a creeping vine with large flowers-ipecac blossoms-blocked my path. If Elaine ever got uncursed, she might like a flower. I used the scissors from the barber shop to cut one off. Noticing how sharp the scissors were, I tried them on the undergrowth as well, and was soon headed down the path.

Soon I found myself on a ridge overlooking a stormy bay where a ship sat at anchor. I was almost certain from its distinctive green color that it was the ship that had borne away my darling Elaine. There were also some interesting objects on the ridge. As I walked over to investigate them, I noticed a "Snake Crossing" sign. I doubted that a little snake could do me any harm, but suddenly a giant python lunged from a tree branch and swallowed me whole.

I'd been in worse predicaments, but none that smelled quite as bad. Fortunately, the snake's stomach contained a number of useful items, including a reservation slip for the Chicken Shack and a bottle of syrup. Remembering what I'd read on the plaque about the ipecac flower, I mixed the flower with the syrup, and aimed the whole mess toward what I thought was the snake's head. After some loud retching sounds and several contractions, I was free.

Sort of.

Philosophers have wrestled with the age-old question, "Is it better to be eaten by a giant snake or sucked into a mire of viscous quicksand?" All things considered, I'd rather be in Philadelphia.

I saw a nearby vine (just out of reach) that I could use to pull myself to safety. A branch balanced on a root below it might knock the vine my way if I could flip the branch just right. My quick wits saved me once again. Acquiring a thorn and hollow reed from the nearby vegetation, I crafted a primitive peashooter. I then attached one of my helium balloons (every good pirate should have a helium balloon in his pants) to the rock paperweight, blew it toward the branch, and popped the balloon with the peashooter.

I followed the path near the quicksand and found myself at last at Danjer Cove. There in plain sight was the kidnappers' ship. Sadly, the rowboat that might carry me there had a huge hole in its side. This would take some more thought. I returned to Central Puerto Pollo and the Chicken Shack to see about lunch.
 Blondebeard, the proprietor, was a hearty, friendly sort, which compensated somewhat for his inedible food. I tried a biscuit from the barrel by the door and discovered to my horror that it had maggots in it. The chicken on a nearby table looked like it wasn't fit for anything else, so I unleashed the maggots on it and was delighted to find a Brimstone Beach Club membership card in the carcass.

Figuring that the customer at the table might be having some problems swallowing the food, I slapped his back the way I had Cutthroat Bill's and discovered he was one of LeChuck's skeletal crew. Apparently he'd complained about the food and got a knife in the back for his trouble. I thought it best to conceal the evidence; besides, it was an excellent knife. While I was feeling larcenous, I picked up a pie pan and a biscuit cutter from the shelf near the kitchen.

To show Blondebeard there were no hard feelings, I offered him the spit-covered jawbreaker from the barber shop. It loosened his gold tooth, which set me to thinking. If I could acquire that gold tooth, it might be enough to convince Cutthroat Bill to join my crew. I gave Blondebeard some of the gum, hoping he might spit it out with the tooth inside, but he just blew a bubble-in which I could clearly see the prize I sought. Whipping out the voodoo pin, I popped the bubble and grabbed the tooth. But Blondebeard wouldn't let me leave with it. I was stumped, but then I noticed the window over the door. If I could attach the tooth to a helium balloon...No, the tooth was too light, and the balloon would just rise to the ceiling. Then I remembered the bubbles Blondebeard blew (say that fast 10 times). I chewed some gum, put the tooth in the chewed gum, inhaled some helium from the balloon (adding comic effect when I talked), and chewed the gum again. The bubble took a perfect flight path through the window, and I left the restaurant, apparently toothless (I'm sure I wasn't the first patron to exit in that condition).
Outside, I paused. I'd heard the bubble pop, but there was no sign of the tooth. Then I noticed a faint gleam in the mud under the drainpipe. Using the pie pan, I lifted the mud and found my gold. I ran to the barber shop gleefully, showed the gold to Bill, and recruited him for my crew. I asked Haggis to join, as well, but he'd serve no captain who couldn't defeat him at the caber toss-a Highland test of strength during which competitors toss huge wooden poles into the air. The contestant who tosses it farthest (and retains his normal vocal range) wins.

Now, I'm an excellent swordsman and a savvy strategist, but brute strength has never been my forte-Haggis beat me easily. I returned to the barbershop in shame.

I needed to think things over, so I strolled through the arch near the Performing Arts Center, and found myself once more at the caber field. I noticed the unusual trees at the far end of the field. On investigating further, I learned they were rubber trees. A rubber plug might be just the ticket for that leaky boat in Danjer Cove, so I whipped out my biscuit cutter, applied it to the tree, and had a rubber plug of what appeared to be the right size.

But I remained distraught about my loss to Haggis. If only I could make a caber from a rubber tree...But I had no ax. I wandered back up the grassy knoll to the rum barrel. Perhaps I could find a way to crack open the barrel and drown my sorrows. I used the knife from the restaurant to saw through the sawhorse. Sure enough, rum trailed from the barrel through the grass. The rum trail reminded me of a line of gunpowder leading to a powder keg. Rum in a barrel could be almost as explosive, and the barrel was right next to the rubber tree....

It was worth a shot. I took the burning ember I'd been carrying around, ignited the rum trail, and regained consciousness shortly afterward in Puerto Pollo's main square. Surely if it could blow me that far, the rubber tree had been properly felled, so I betook myself to the Barberry Coast and challenged Haggis once more. For a pirate, the thrill of victory, no matter how unscrupulously achieved, is far superior to the agony of defeat.
Having acquired a crew, I was now determined to rescue Elaine and capture a ship, so Danjer Cove was calling my name. There I tried my plug on the hole in the rowboat, but it kept falling out. I applied a judicious amount of paste to the plug and solved that problem (fortunately it was heavy-duty waterproof paste). Then I rowed out to board the ship, a trim little vessel called the Sea Cucumber. As I came alongside her, I noticed an evil-looking adornment-the plank so beloved by pirate captains for disposing of their enemies. If things went badly, I didn't want to find myself on that plank, so I whipped out my trusty knife and sawed it off.

I climbed aboard, and encountered a bizarre specimen in the form of First Mate Fossey. But he was not nearly as strange as the Sea Cucumber's crew-all monkeys. They seemed intent on punishing me, and without the plank, their only recourse was tar and feathers. It was a bit itchy, but no more humiliating than an evening with Elaine. It might have been more unpleasant if they'd remembered to heat the tar first.

If anyone had the inside track on feather removal, it might be my old buddy Blondebeard, given all his years in the chicken business. Imagine my surprise when he mistook me for El Pollo Diablo, the legendary giant demon chicken of Plunder Island.

At first I thought it was a joke, so I went along with it, mumbling a few random words in Spanish, until I saw the iron skillet in Blondebeard's hand. The floor jumped up to meet me like a long-lost friend, and then there was blackness.
I awoke feeling somewhat at sea, assaulted by the overwhelming odors of chicken grease and coleslaw. Blondebeard had packed me, feathers and all, into a Buccaneer's Bounty Banquet Bucket and had me delivered to the Sea Cucumber.

The chicken grease had removed the feathers, so I took a look around. To my amusement and amazement, I found that LeChimp, the vessel's captain, was a giant ape. Mr. Fossey was taking orders from the voices in his head-and I saw no reason, given my trusty ventriloquist book, that I couldn't be one of those voices. Using the book on LeChimp, I managed to get Fossey and the chimps to desert the ship, but I couldn't convince him to dig up Elaine. I found a map to her location (sort of) on the dinner table. The map was not very cogent, but the theater tickets next to the map were a clue. Chimps weren't normally interested in the Bard.

OK, I was wrong, but that didn't stop me from finding Elaine. I returned to the theater, but saw nothing in the dressing room or onstage that applied to the cryptic note about "With all eyes open...." I investigated the flight of stairs leading up from the dressing room. I found myself in a banana peel-littered lighting booth: I was on the right track.

The eight buttons on the lighting board before me seemed to correspond to the eight major compass points. I took a chance and threw the switch (opening all the eyes) and then pressed the buttons in the order indicated on Fossey's "map"-SE, NW, W, E, NE (twice), E, SW-and then an 'X' appeared, showing where Elaine was buried. I guess I could have figured that out if I'd just thought about that shovel, but it was more mysterious and piratey this way.
 Now I had another problem: Slappy Cromwell, the actor, wouldn't get off stage. He was doing the standard Shakespearean juggling routine, and I knew after he finished with the daggers, he'd be coming for the cannonballs in the dressing room. If he were to drop some, even a chimp audience might boo him offstage.... I coated the balls with chicken grease and watched to see what would happen. I succeeded, though not quite in the way I had planned. I dug up Elaine and took her to the Sea Cucumber.
 I could no longer put off looking for Blood Island. My only lead was Slappy's agent, Palido, who was supposed to be at the Brimstone Beach Club. I had seen a likely beach on the eastern side of the island from the caber field. I headed east until I reached the Brimstone Beach Club Cabana. The snotty towel boy changed his tune after I showed him my membership card.

I wanted some of the cooking oil behind him, so I took three towels, soaked them in the ice bucket, and gave him a fierce towel snap. He ran off into the bushes, and I grabbed the oil before exploring the beach.

I soon learned why it was called Brimstone Beach. This place was hot -far too hot to cross in my flimsy footwear. But I did have those cool towels, so I put one down, crossed it quickly, put another down, crossed it quickly, and when I'd crossed the third towel, I'd made it across the beach to where Palido lay sunbathing.

There he lay, an empty mug on his chest. His back, as I discovered after I asked him repeatedly, bore a tattoo of the map to Blood Island. I had to see it, but I couldn't figure out how to get him to turn over. I agreed to get him a drink instead.

The only place on Plunder Island I knew for sure sold cold drinks was the lemonade stand near the Chicken Shack and dye barrels. A larcenous little kid named Kenny Falmouth ran the place. He had a bottomless mug policy, he said, and it was true: The mugs had no bottoms-and his customers got no lemonade.

Placing the bottomless mug on his chest, told him I had another drink for him, and poured in the red dye. As I'd hoped, Palido thought he was sunburned and turned over. There was the map, but it was far too complicated to memorize. I had to get it off his back-preferably without bloodshed. Then I remembered the cooking oil. I poured it on, Palido got a real sunburn, and I peeled off the map. With map, crew, and ship, I was ready to set sail for Blood Island.
 Unfortunately, my crew wouldn't do much of anything except lean over the side and watch whales. Even when Rottingham boarded us and stole my map, they couldn't tear themselves away. When I tried to discipline them, they began singing. I like a sea chantey as well as the next pirate, but this was ridiculous. Everything I said, they turned into a lyric.

After I finally got them to stop, Haggis asked me whether I was an academic or aggressive sea captain. He was really asking how much help I'd need in sea battles because I was going to have to take on Rottingham, and our cannons weren't up to the task. I'd first have to take on and defeat weaker pirates to gain their treasure and build up my armaments. I stated my preference, battled my way up to Rottingham, recovered my map, and once more set sail for Blood Island.
 Fate seemed against us. We encountered a terrible storm that threatened to tear our vessel apart. We made it through, but shipwrecked on the coast of Blood Island. I learned Elaine had been thrown from the crow's nest, and that my crew had decided, once the ship was repaired, to return to Plunder Island and become barbers again. They were being so selfish, I didn't tell them about the cool bottle of shaving soap I'd found on the sand. I tried to talk Haggis out of his bottle of hand lotion, but he insisted they'd need it: The ship repairs would take some time, and carpentry is rough on pirate hands. He agreed to give me the lotion if I could come up with a tar-like substance he could use in repairing the ship.

I had to explore the island to find Elaine and the diamond the Voodoo Lady had spoken of. First I checked the local cemetery: Perhaps someone had found Elaine and, believing she was a statue, put her there as decoration. I found nothing but locked crypts on the east side, but as I walked west, I found a hammer, a chisel, and a dog house where an ancient dog lived. Naturally, I picked up the hammer and chisel; a successful pirate never passes up tools for breaking and entering. I gave the old dog what was left of my biscuit, and he bit me! I took some of his hair.
 Next, I entered the local hotel and met Madame Xima, a tarot card reader. She didn't take to me at first, but I talked her into five card readings. All turned up the death card. If I were superstitious, I'd have been discouraged. I thought I'd ask for a second opinion if I ran into the Voodoo Lady, so I grabbed the cards while Madame Xima was distracted.

I attempted to strike up a conversation with the hotel bartender, but he was suffering from a bad hangover. I strolled back down the bar, past the nacho maker, to a closed door on the back wall. I opened it to find a storage closet that held (among other things) a refrigerator, a filing cabinet with family records, and a giant wheel of cheese. The cheese might come in handy as a snack, so I used the chisel from the graveyard to cut off a hunk. I also took the magnet from the refrigerator.

This hotel seemed interesting. I wandered back by the bartender, and noticed a book on the bar by the door to the stairs. It was a volume of drink recipes, including a hangover cure. It would be kind of me to help out the bartender; it might even get me free drinks. But I didn't have all the ingredients-yet.

I went upstairs and found a hallway lined with family portraits. None were really attractive, but the one at the head of the stairs was downright ugly. I ducked into the room next to it and found myself in another storage closet. A nail poked through the wall here on the other side of the portrait. I pounded it with my hammer. When I returned to the hall, I found to my glee that I'd knocked down the offensive picture. I picked it up so no one could rehang it. I took the nail, as well, just to be sure. I tried the other door down the hall. It wouldn't open, and I didn't have my burglar equipment with me.
Next I checked out the beach below the hotel. There in a tree I spotted an egg-one of the ingredients for the hangover remedy. If I knocked it down, I'd smash it on the rocks below, so I returned to the hotel to get a pillow. The cushion on the barstool closest to the door by the stairs was loose, so I grabbed that, returned to the tree, and covered the rocks with it. Then I whacked the tree soundly with the hammer, and had my egg.

In the western distance I saw a colorful windmill. Windmills have always been lucky for me, so I walked there. The windmill itself was locked (my lack of burglar tools was becoming very frustrating), but to the side of it was a pepper plant. I obtained this last ingredient for the hangover cure, and returned to the hotel.

There, I gave the egg, the pepper, and the hair of the dog to the bartender, and in no time he was restored to full health. I asked him for a drink (the exotic kind, with an umbrella in it), but I wasn't ready to swig it down just yet. I wanted to see if he knew anything about the diamond (bartenders can be a wealth of information). But first I asked about his background, just to be friendly, and got an introductory lecture on the Goodsoup family, who'd run these Caribbean hotels for generations. He mentioned a barbecue; apparently they no longer used it now that the local volcano was dormant.

Then I asked about the diamond-as it turns out, a Goodsoup family heirloom. He said the diamond had been stolen and taken to Skull Island, but he hinted that the ring might be found in his aunt's tomb. I asked how to get in, and he told me to drop dead. Hmm. I remembered the cautionary note that the hangover remedy caused drowsiness when mixed with alcohol. I used my chisel to open the childproof cap, mixed the remedy with my drink, and drank it down.
 I awoke in a crypt. I used my chisel to pry open the lid; it didn't seem to be the kind of classy joint I'd associate with Goodsoups. There was a spooky pounding coming from another coffin. I was locked in, anyway, so I decided to face whatever vile spirit or zombie lurked within. Once more applying my handy chisel, I opened the coffin- and what do you suppose leaped out? A revenge-maddened spectre? A ghastly vampire with fangs dripping red? No, something far more terrifying-my old acquaintance, Stan, the supersalesman.

I'd thought I was rid of him when I nailed him in that coffin years ago, but his superhuman endurance kept him alive. And now he sold insurance. I appeared interested to pacify him, and he showed me how to get out of the crypt. I went to check on the old dog, and then it struck me. Insurance pays you money for being dead and buried, and I'd just survived that. I could do it again and collect on my own insurance. I returned to Stan, and traded the gold tooth for an insurance policy. Then I picked up the nails from my coffin; I might need them if I had to nail him back where he belonged.

In any event, it was clear I'd ended up in the wrong crypt, so I returned to the hotel and asked Goodsoup about it. One had to be a Goodsoup to be entombed in the family crypt, he explained. That made sense. I told him I was a Goodsoup, but he was unconvinced: I didn't resemble any of the portraits in the hall upstairs. I was simply too good-looking-or was I?

I went upstairs and, using the barber scissors, I cut the face out of the portrait I'd picked up. I hung the portrait on the door, went through the door and into the closet, and looked through the door's window. When Goodsoup drifted upstairs to look at the portraits, he couldn't help but notice how much his ancestor resembled me, after all.
 Pleased with this success, I walked down to try that other door again, but still couldn't get in. Then I remembered Stan's laminated business card. I tried it with the door and got in-only to find an empty room with a Murphy bed. When I pulled down the bed, I found a skeleton in it. It had died catching up on Goodsoup family history: A book about it lay on the skeleton's chest. This might be useful for establishing my Goodsoup credentials, but when I reached for it, the bed flew back into the wall.

I pulled it down again. If I wanted to get that book, I had to find a way to nail down that bed. Did I say nail? I used the nails from my coffin, added the one I'd found in the hall, and voila: The bed was secure. I grabbed the book and headed downstairs.

I had no trouble now convincing the bartender I looked like a Goodsoup, and, in talking about family history, I whipped out my book and dazzled him with my knowledge. Once he said I was a Goodsoup, the way was clear to get into the family tomb, and get a hefty insurance payment, to boot. I ordered another drink, added the hangover remedy, and happily passed out.

I awoke in the family crypt, but all was not well. I encountered the ghost of Aunt Minnie Goodsoup, who told me her sad tale. She'd lost the diamond, and still wouldn't let go of her ring, which reminded her of her lost love. To make things worse, I couldn't get out of the crypt. I wandered back past Minnie's ghost and found myself in a part of the crypt where some grave-robbing had taken place: There was an open coffin with a crowbar stuck in it. I picked up the crowbar (never pass up tools...) and walked toward a likely-looking crack in the wall. Then I ran into Murray. He was starting to irritate me as much as Stan did, so I picked him up. A skull can't scare you if you're carrying it around in your pants, can it?

I looked through the crack into the living quarters of Morty, the cemetery custodian and gravedigger. I tried to get him to let me out, but he thought I was a tricky ghost. If he wants a tricky ghost, I thought, I can probably provide one. First, though, I needed the lantern from his room. My arm was too large to fit through the crack, and the skeleton arm couldn't hold the lantern-not until I used paste on it. I put the lantern down on the coffin lid and used Murray to cast a scary shadow. That did it; Morty came around to let me out faster than you can say "Scared stiff by a spurious spectre."

As I wandered back to the hotel, I tried to piece things together. I went to the patio and checked out the barbecue. The large cauldron was probably for heating up nacho cheese. I had cheese, but no heat. Too bad, because it might just be tarlike enough when melted to trade with Haggis for the lotion. I still hadn't found Elaine, I didn't have the ring or the diamond, and, knowing Stan, he'd probably want proof I'd been dead.

Wait a minute. That filing cabinet in the closet by the bar held Goodsoup family records. Maybe.
 I checked the cabinet, and sure enough, there was my death certificate. I showed it to Stan and got a whole lot of money.

Maybe I just needed a fresh perspective. I climbed to the top of the lighthouse, but it was nonfunctioning-no mirror and no light. Perhaps fixing up the lighthouse would help me focus. I knew where I could get a mirror....

I returned to the bar. I'd have to find some way to distract Goodsoup if I wanted to get that mirror. I put the face from the portrait in the mirror frame. Sure enough, the perpetually drunken Goodsoup thought it was his own face. I took his tip jar off the corner of the bar, too, for good measure.

Something about that skeleton in the guest room bothered me. From its decomposition and clothing, it looked to be from about the same era as Minnie. If this was her lost suitor, Charles de Goulash, I might be able to get the ring.

I used the crowbar on the hole in the wall, and just as I thought, I then had a straight shot to the Goodsoup family tomb using the Murphy bed as a catapult by launching it with the crowbar. I used the crowbar with the bed, and then headed to the crypt myself. When I got there, Minnie was gone and the ring was waiting for me on the floor.
 There were a couple of places I still hadn't checked for Elaine. I went toward the strange lights on the hill and found myself in a native village. A banquet was laid out centered around a large block of tofu. I picked it up. As I walked farther into the village, I also found an auger and a measuring cup. There seemed to be some activity on the other side of the village, so I went on out through the arch.

There I met my old friend from Monkey Island, Lemonhead. There was a big sacrifice going on to pacify the volcano god, but Lemonhead made it clear I wasn't invited. Some visiting dignitary he'd never seen before seemed to be the guest of honor. The rejection was too much. I moved out of his sight, worked on the tofu block with my chisel, put the tofu on my head and passed myself off to Lemonhead as his visiting guest.

Frankly, the volcano sacrifice wasn't that impressive (the volcano god had a touchy digestive system, so the villagers "sacrificed" a human effigy of fruits and vegetables). I tossed in my own offering-a big hunk of the cheese from the hotel. The volcano god was lactose intolerant, and there was a dandy eruption.
 There was still one place I hadn't looked for Elaine-the clearing above Egg Beach. There she was, moonlight glinting on her golden hair, not to mention her golden elbows and her golden earlobes. I noticed fireflies in the clearing, and remembered how I loved to collect them in a jar when I was a kid. Perhaps they'd make a good lantern for the lighthouse. I had the tip jar from the bar, and I was careful to poke holes in the lid with the awl, but the fireflies weren't interested. Surely sugar water would attract them. I'd seen a barrel of sugar water for rum on the upper platform of the windmill, so I headed back there.

None of my tools worked on the windmill door, and I was stumped. If I were up top, I could use the umbrella to parachute down, but how could I get up there? I used the hook on the umbrella handle with the windmill blades, and it worked beautifully. Then I used the tip jar with the sugar water barrel, descended the stairs, and returned to the clearing.

There I set out the sugar water, attracted the fireflies, sealed the jar, and set out for the lighthouse. The mirror and my makeshift lantern did the job. I thought I saw a small boat pull in at Egg Beach, attracted by the light. I headed to the beach to check it out.
 There, under a gibbous moon, I first beheld the uncanny Lost Welshman, doomed to wander in the mist between Blood and Skull islands until the lighthouse was reignited. Here was a possible transport to Skull Island and the Goodsoup diamond, I thought.

But the Welshman wouldn't sail without a compass. There was something about compasses in that encyclopedia volume I'd been toting around. I had all the components at hand; I filled the measuring cup with seawater, magnetized the voodoo pin with the refrigerator magnet, and stuck it through the cork from the shaving soap bottle. Then it was a simple matter to put the cork in the measuring cup and hand the Welshman the homemade compass. Then he was glad to take me to Skull Island.

Well, he was willing, anyway. Skull Island frightened even him, though why a giant stone duck's head should intimidate anybody was beyond me.

To reach the smuggler's cave, he said, I must go to the top of the cliff. There, a temp pirate named Jean La Foot ineptly operated a makeshift elevator that descended to Smuggler's Cave. I hadn't descended far when La Foot, predictably, lost his grip and I hurtled through the air toward the rocks below. Thanks be to the patron saint of pirates, St. Ignatius Skullduggery: I retained my quick wits and used my umbrella to slow my fall.

Inside the cave I encountered the master smuggler, King Andre, and his assistant, Gruff. After some clever by-play, I pressed the issue of the diamond. Andre finally agreed to play cards for it-a bizarre game he called poker, where three of something is good, and four of something is better. It was a good thing I still had my insurance settlement to put up as a stake. I got a very poor hand, but I cheated using the five death cards from Madame Xima. Quickly, I grabbed the diamond, got away, and with the Welshman's help returned to Blood Island.

I used the diamond with the ring and then returned to the clearing-only to discover I couldn't get the cursed ring off. Drat. I had to get that hand lotion. I returned to the hotel patio, and found to my delight that the lava flow had heated up the barbecue. I dumped in the remaining cheese, picked up the pot, and took the whole thing to Haggis.

He gave me the lotion, and I used it on the cursed ring, which exploded in my hand. Just as well. I put the ring, that I won from King Andre on Elaine and she awoke, delighted to find herself once more safe in my arms-until LeChuck's goons showed up and captured us.
 Somehow LeChuck had survived his ship's explosion. Once again I found myself trapped in a ride at his Carnival of Doom. He'd tied up Elaine.

Careful questioning revealed his plans. They were the usual: Marry Elaine and subject me to unending, humiliating, and painful torture. But there was a new wrinkle: The roller-coaster was how he had created his undead minions, and he planned to take Elaine for a ride before he married her. I refused to listen to any more of his ravings, so he aimed some weird, voodoo energy at me and ran off with Elaine. I cleverly escaped his ghoulish gondola by opening the door, but I'd been turned into a little boy. It was disturbingly familiar.

On the midway, I faced a grotesque figure-a man dressed up like Dinghy Dog, every pirate kiddy's favorite cartoon character. He ran a "Guess Your Weight and Age" concession, and his patronizing attitude made me determined to win one of his prizes. I challenged him to guess my age. Of course, he was way off. Bumpkin. I selected one of his miniature anchors; I could always use it as a weapon on Lechuck if I got the chance.

Murray was there, too, being offered as a prize, but I'd had enough of the pseudo-scary skull by then. I'd also had my fill of the pseudo-Dinghy Dog. I kept punching him until he took me on. I emerged with a minor bite, and got a handful of his hair. Hmm. The hair of the dog that bit me-why did that sound familiar?

At the next booth, cream pies were fired from a cannon at a mime. Everyone knows mimes are mortal enemies of pirates. I had to take out that mime, and I had the technology for it. I took my pie pan, put the anchor in it, and filled it with shaving soap. I placed it atop the pile of pies and persuaded the guy in the giant stinky rat costume to fire my pie at the mime. It was a glorious victory for piratehood. Then I stuck my head through the little window and taunted the rat myself. Yum, lemon meringue, rich with egg whites.

After I spotted (and stole) a pepper mill on the snowcone maker's counter, I had a plan: Perhaps a hangover remedy could work on a voodoo spell. I had the snowcone maker create a custom-made snowcone for me using dog hair and meringue. I added pepper, ate the snowcone, and regained my full size and my full pirate physique. Roller-coaster, here I come.
 The roller-coaster ride featured a series of dioramas, mostly depicting scenes from my stormy history with LeChuck. Except for the first, which displayed a giant Snow Monkey, each room contained something useful. The second room, where I picked up a rope, showed Monkey Island as I remembered it. I found a cask of rum in the third room and a diorama of the original journey to Monkey Island. I remembered that rum made a good explosive. The fourth room offered a depiction of LeChuck torturing Wally and me. I opened the lantern, blew it out, and grabbed some of its oil to soak the rope, creating a proper fuse. Then I stuck it into the rum cask, got back in the car, and headed for the first room again.

Throughout all this, LeChuck appeared occasionally to give me a major hotfoot. I had a major hotfoot in mind for Captain LeChuck.
 I took my fused, explosive cask to the first room and tucked it under the Snow Monkey's arm. When my archenemy returned, I blew pepper in his face, which made him sneeze, and that ignited the fuse. LeChuck exploded, I found my little Plunder-Bunny, Elaine, and the two of us set sail on our honeymoon. And an especially Jolly Roger flew from the mizzenmast.
End of The Curse of Monkey Island

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