(Authors Note: This story was written by Hype, not me. He wrote it for me upon request. Because he's just so sweet like that. If you have any questions or comments I will gladly relay them to him and get back to you. Thank you and happy reading!)

Tintin had a nose for adventure. Snowy had a nose for food, and the occasional bit of whiskey when he was able to lap some up. Being a dog, Snowy knew a lot about having a strong sense of smell. But he never did quite understand how Tintin was able to sniff out adventure. Adventure didn't have a conventional scent, as far as Snowy knew.

Yes, Snowy had been able to sniff out dangerous things in the past-bombs, fires, particularly smelly thugs...but Tintin could sniff out the start of an entire adventure, not just individual components.

Perhaps, Snowy thought, the term "a nose for adventure" didn't mean a literal nose. Perhaps it was like a sixth sense. Either way, Tintin had it, for better or for worse. While Snowy had seen amazing things that few other dogs or even people had seen, sometimes he wished for a normal life away from foreign espionage and desert treks. More games of fetch, more naps on a couch. A normal dog life.

Tintin had received a phone call from his friend Circe recently. They were invited to a small get-together with their friend Rob. Snowy had been relieved to hear this. It sounded like the makings of a normal day. Circe was a sweet woman, who was always playful and affectionate to Snowy. Rob was nice, even though his own pets were a little on the strange side. As Tintin and Snowy walked down to Rob's apartment, Snowy smiled a bit, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of his head that Tintin would stumble into some sort of secret government coup, or witness a kidnapping, or some other nonsense that would send them across the world...it got so tiring after a while.

They were almost there! Snowy could see Rob's apartment building in the distance! Home free! That's when Tintin stopped walking and looked in the window of an antique shop.

"Great snakes!" cried Tintin. Snowy's eyes widened. That odd exclamation almost always led to the discovery of a stolen artifact to save or a drug smuggling ring to bust up. And they had been so close, too.

Filled with dread, Snowy looked up to see what Tintin had become so enthralled with this time. It was...a board game. A very nice board game, yes, but still just a board game. No cause for alarm.

Tintin eagerly entered the shop, followed by a relieved Snowy. The shop's old proprietor nodded at the two, but said nothing. He just sat back and smoked his pipe.

"That game in the window, sir," Tintin said eagerly, "how much is it?"

"Game in the window..." the old man repeated quietly, as if he were contemplating something.

Snowy's ears perked up. Somewhere in the shop, he thought he heard a quiet but steady sound of...tribal drums? It wasn't the kind of "easy listening" music that most stores played. Then again, this was a strange shop.

Meanwhile, the proprietor had risen from his seat and was showing Tintin the game.

"Jumanji," read Tintin. "A game for those who seek to find a way to leave their world behind."

"Brilliant piece of verse," Snowy sarcastically muttered to himself.

"That language," mused Tintin, "it sounds like...Zulu?"

The old man nodded. "You are familiar with the language?"

"Well," shrugged Tintin, "I did spend some time in the Congo a while back, but..." Tintin's voice trailed off as he appeared to be lost in thought. Snowy didn't notice, still trying to find whatever hidden speaker those tribal drums were coming from.

"The game is a dollar ninety-five," the proprietor said, snapping Tintin out of his daze.

Tintin was a bit surprised by the low price, but quickly paid for the game and left, with Snowy trailing behind him.

"It's strange that such a beautiful board game was so cheap," Tintin mused to Snowy. "I suppose we just got lucky, didn't we?"

Snowy was only half-listening, though. It was the oddest thing. Those drums he had heard in the shop must have been catchy, because that infectious rhythm was now stuck in his head. He could still hear their faint sound.