"Alright, Guybrush," Elaine began as they strolled through Flaccid Town, "I'm going to the Chamber of Political Bigwigs at one. You can busy yourself about the place until it's time to go. How does that sound?"

"Well," he sighed, "there's a big risk I could stumble upon a more diabolical scheme in my spare time, but hey! Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

"Be good," she whispered, leaning over to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Bye, Elaine," he chuckled as she jogged further into town.

=0_^=

"Let's see if we can go find the Voodoo Lady, Timmy," Guybrush eagerly suggested not long afterwards. "I'll bet she'd enjoy nothing more than hearing about how I destroyed LeChuck and his evil Australian partner in doom, Ozzie Mandrill!"

Timmy rolled his eyes.

"Hey, wait a minute," Guybrush began, frowning. "What does that sign say? Stan's Appliance World? What the heck?"

"Ook-oo-ha," Timmy noted aloud.

"Yes," Guybrush replied, smirking, "Good ol' Stan's been a hawker of every dodgy retail medium available. But in the back of my mind, I knew that no fast-talking salesman in his right mind would ever pass up appliance marketing. Shall we go say hello?"

Timmy made it poignantly clear to his taller intellectual inferior that he had no intention of doing so, instead leaping from his perch on Guybrush's shoulder and scurrying into an alleyway.

"Huh. Fine, then," Guybrush grunted. "Why don't I just go alone?"

With a nostalgic smile, Guybrush pushed open the door, only to be overcome with an icy gust of arctic wind.

"W'aaa-aargh!" he squeaked, his body turning rigid. A commotion sounded from a room behind the shop, and the door opened revealing a man in a large caribou pelt. He wore an equally large hat, and an even larger grin, rubbing his gloved hands together and assisting the nearly solid Guybrush in approaching the counter.

"A refreshing change from the unforgiving Caribbean humidity, am I right?" he beamed.

The only sign of life from Guybrush, however, came from his widened, darting eyes, and the man thought for a moment before adjusting the room temperature, Guybrush's body relaxing accordingly.

"Welcome to Stan's Used Appliances!" he chuckled, "And for a remarkably low price, this bone numbing Chill-Instil could cool your loved ones from the beginning of the Monsoon till the end of Swashbuckling Season, Mr…..?"

"What?" Guybrush choked, "You don't recognise me? It's Guybrush Threepwood! I've witnessed every one of your business ventures over the last four years! Even your largely unsuccessful life insurance frontier!"

"Yes, it was a bit of a flop," Stan chuckled, "Probably because of the location. But I've overcome failure and am now earning a hearty living here on fabulous Flaccid. Now, what can I interest you in, Mr. Threepwood?"

"Actually, I was coming here because encountering you is a prerequisite for all of my misadventures."

"O-hokay, then!" he grinned, before turning back to the other room and closing the door behind him.

"Well, gee," Guybrush frowned, "The least you could do is catch up on old times."

Shaking his head resignedly, Guybrush exited the store and was refreshed by the warmth of the Caribbean sun on his face. For the first time, he chose to properly examine Flaccid Town in all of its serene glory. Unlike Puerto Pollo, it was essentially a commercial-based area, with most every establishment advertising their respective field of trade or commerce. The harbour was located, not at the forefront of the town, but in a cove to the far west. Overlooking the cove in question was an ominous plateau called Authority Point that extended out beyond the general geography of the island and to the coral reef not far from the bay. Atop the plateau was the Greater Caribbean Union HQ, where Elaine had requested an audience with the Governmental head honchos of the entire Island regime. The whole town was nestled within a large expanse of Cliffside, so that the northern horizon could not be properly examined by anyone from below, the whole area resembling a great big motion picture set as a result. To the best of Guybrush's knowledge, naught but a small expanse of rainforest dwelt behind the cliffs, and like most every other island, he assumed, only the prominent seaside locations were populated.

"Aha!" he cried as his observant eyes fell upon another outlet, "I've found her!"

He had located the Voodoo Lady's new residence, The International House of Mojo, (formerly Voodoo and Things,) and eagerly approached it. As was to be expected, it still pertained its eerie, mystifying theme of old, the small darkened room reeking of incense, and numerous beaded strings dangling from the ceiling. As was also to be expected, she was nowhere to be found, and Guybrush was forced to find whatever finger and/or stuffed alligator tongue needed to be tugged in order for her to make an appearance. To his utmost surprise, she waddled out from behind a nearby curtain, stirring what appeared to be icing mixture in a bowl.

"Guybrush Threepwood," she marvelled with a knowing smile, "How did I predict you'd find me here?"

"Uh……you're adept at manipulating the forces of nature?" he guessed.

"Yes, that's probably it."

She set the bowl down on a nearby coffee table and sat before Guybrush with a look of patient expectancy.

"I sense that something is troubling you, Guybrush," she noted.

"Well, yeah. It started out on Chubb Island - -"

"Ah!" she interrupted forcefully, "There will be no need for a reiteration of your harrowed tale, for I have already seen the depths of your current situation."

"Hey, really?" he grinned boyishly. "Can you tell me if it's nearly over, I want to make it back to Plunder Island before Slappy Cromwell's latest theatrical medley on Friday."

"In order to witness the conclusion to your new adventure prior to its actual happening, we must consult………The Skull."

"The Skull?" Guybrush remarked, dubiously.

With characteristic flair, she whipped a long silken drape away from its perch on a pedestal, revealing what Guybrush had feared for a long time.

"Muhuhahahahahahahaaaaaa………!!!"

"Oh, no."

"Oho, yes!" crowed Murray the Skull, triumphantly. "I have returned to harass you from beyond the beyond! The obligation of the Undead will result in your shortcoming, and once I embody your feeble mortal carcass, then shall I be the real terror of the living! Muhuhahahahahahahahaaaaaaa………!!!"

Rolling his eyes, Guybrush grasped the material and draped it over Murray before any other pointless ramblings could be uttered.

"A Skull is a very dangerous thing!" Guybrush remarked in a somewhat less than subtle movie parody, "They are not all accounted for, you don't know who may be watching."

"Very well, Guybrush, I will use my own Voodoo intuition. And I sense that another, more shocking twist awaits you on your journey. For while you have succeeded in overcoming the mundane necessities of a timeless puzzle based adventure, the conclusion to this tale is likely to be sudden and more than a little unexpected."

"So you're saying the Sanitation Commissioner's scheme goes beyond the Union?"

"Guybrush?" called Elaine from the foyer, "Are you in here? Oh, there you are. Guybrush, I've just spoken with the Members of the Board, and it turns out they didn't even authorise the Inspection. In fact, Lance Cleave isn't even the real Commissioner!"

"Whoa," he grunted, turning back to the Voodoo Lady, "that is unexpected. But if he wasn't representing the Union, then he couldn't have legally acquired those islands, right?"

"That's right!" Elaine beamed.

"I wonder who this Cleave guy is working for, then?"

"That is what you must uncover, Guybrush," the Voodoo Lady conceded. "In order to fulfil your destiny, to truly satisfy your Pirate criteria, you must confront him before he can deceive any more Islands!"

"Word has it he's docked here," Elaine remarked. "Perhaps it's not too late to catch him! Guybrush, let's go!"

"Thanks for your help!" he beamed as he sprinted out of the building.

Timmy the Monkey leapt from his vantage point atop a lemonade stand and onto Guybrush's shoulder as he an Elaine valiantly made their way through the bustling crowds and back to the harbour. They could not, however, locate his ship upon arrival.

"Excuse me," Elaine asked a small Pirate.

"Wow, Elaine!" the little man remarked, "That's some ring!"

"Oh, Wally!" she cried in surprised delight. "It's you!"

"Is this some sort of retirement complex for Monkey Island characters of old?" Guybrush wailed.

"What can I do for you, Mr. And Mrs. Wood?" he inquired.

"Did a tall, intimidating and very obviously unsavoury character leave here not long ago?" asked Guybrush.

"You mean Mr. Cleave?" Wally suggested, their frantic nodding encouraging him to continue, "Actually yes, if you look out over yonder you'll see his ship sailing into the afternoon haze!"

"Guybrush, let's go!"

"Wait, Elaine!" Guybrush complained as she struggled to rig the topsail, "Where did the crew go?"

"They're on shore leave, Guybrush," she explained distractedly, "We don't have time to round them up, I'm afraid. And it's probably going to make our voyage a difficult one."

Never a fan of difficult voyages, Guybrush let his eyes scan the docks, and located, to his delight, the three gentlemen from the Chubb/Melee passenger vessel.

"Guys!" he called down to them, and they in turn looked up at him. "How'd you like to join my ever-growing Pirate crew?"

"For Guybrush Threepwood," the tallest of them grinned, "Anything."