Last call, boarding now

As I head back down the mountain I notice a slight trembling in the ground... a rumble so low that I'm not even sure if I can really hear it or not. One might even use the word 'ominous'. I notice in the shiney (and slightly blood spattered) reflective Precious a reflection on the mountain behind me.. it seems there is more smoke.

I'm probably imagining it. It's bound to be the smouldering carcasses of the accursed hairy monkey men that were slain by my righteous hand. A hear a hollowish clonk sound behind me... right behind me. I dive into the bushes yelling "SNIPER!" again... only to see a hairy ball roll across the trail. It must have fallen from a tree. Could have brained me. I wonder what a Sniper is?

My head hurts. My body feels.... embalmed... and kinda sticky. My eyes feel like there's sand mixed with ants in them. My tongue feels like its one that someone else has sold at a second hand store and I bought it thinking i was getting a bargain. ripped off. It feels like someones used it to sweep up glass on a sandpaper floor... whatever sandpaper is. The precious tells me that its good. All good.

Up ahead I can see that dodgy Conning fellow trying to shake the boat out of the tree. Using my stunning intellect I deduce that he is stealing it. Lucky for him whoever owns it has similarly rancid taste in headgear. When he's not looking I climb aboard all stealthy like and hide in the cupboard below deck.

As I crouch there amongst the smell of leather gimp suits a gerbil lurking in the corner of the cupboard says to me "Pssst... wanna help me dig a tunnel outta here!?".

He takes a puff on a tiny pipe, smoke lazily oozes from his whiskery nostrils as he hands me a teaspoon.