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What does "wreck" unlock?
Grandpa can be found in The Sea Monkees' Castle. He will only appear there after you have rescued him, as part of the Sea Monkees Quest.
|Ask Grandpa about <topic>
Being the wizened old sea monkee he is, Grandpa has quite a lot of interesting stories he can tell you. Some of them can be triggered by asking him about several different things. Here are the key words that will cause Grandpa to spin you a riveting tale. Each tale unlocks something different underwater.
"Don't talk to me about those wizardfish, young'un. Bunch of stuck-up, pretentious, scaly little bastards, if you ask me.
Oh, all right, I'll tell you all about it, whether you like it or not. I was the first and last Sea Monkee to attend their school of magic. On the way to the school, I met this young fish with a scar on his head. I figured the other fish'd shun him because he looked like a freak with that scar, and with the floppy hair that he had. I mean, hair on a fish just ain't natural; look at the lounge lizardfish if you don't believe me. So anyway, I tell this kid that I'd be his buddy and look out for him, if he looked out for me. I told him to watch out and not get involved with the wrong kind of wizardfish -- I mean, some of those fish are into the drugs, and the satanism, and all that.
Well, you know what he said to me? He says, "I think I can tell the wrong kind of wizardfish for myself, thank you." Well, from that day on that hairy wizardfish did everything he could to drub me out of school. I'd be walking around the schoolyard, minding my own business, and before I knew it he'd be up in my face, talking all kinds of nonsense. I tried to go out for sports, he did his best to knock me around on the field. I'd rat him out for sneaking around after hours, he'd cheat his way into winning the house cup. All the teachers took his side, and most of the students did, too.
Still, I ain't no quitter, so I stuck with it, but the last straw was when he got one of his little girlfriends to beat me up. The little snot-nosed punk couldn't even do it himself! After that, I figured there weren't any magic worth learning that was worth putting up with him, and I got out of there before they blamed me for trying to kill the headmasterfish, or some other trumped-up nonsense.
The only spell I ever learned was avius ticklium, and I can tell you, it's not that useful a spell."
(Unlocks the "avius ticklium" topic.)
"What? Oh, that spell I learned at that stupid wizardfish school. Look, you just wave your hand a little bit -- now, don't be so apathetic, youngster, wave it like you care -- and shout the magic words. See, it isn't that hard, is it? I don't know why they need a whole school to teach stuff like that. Here, I'll make up a spell right now: Herbum Nonlocomotus! It'll keep the kids off my lawn, you see."
(Unlocks the fishy wand drop.)
"Let me tell you something, young'un, and you best listen and listen good: if you want to have a good time under the sea, it's always a good idea to take an eel with you. Me and Noodly Bob used to hang out with an eel, Pizza Pie we called him, because he was a moray -- get it? You don't get it? You've never heard that song? What are they teaching you kids in schools these days?
Anyway, Pizza Pie wasn't one of those fancy electric eels you have these days. No, back in those days the eels all ran on steam. Steam eels, we'd call 'em. Well, Pizza Pie and Noodly Bob heard tell that there was going to be a big clambake down in the Briniest Deepests -- or maybe it was a shindig. Anyway, we all went down to bake some clams, or maybe dig some shins, and on the way there we ran into Paddywagon.
And I mean that literally, whippersnapper -- Paddywagon wasn't the smallest fish, or the fastest, or the smartest, or the most articulate, or -- what was I talking about?
Oh, yeah, the shinbake. So me, Noodly Bob, Pizza Pie, and Paddywagon went down to the Briniest Deepests, and they were having a cake walk. I don't suppose you've ever been to a good old-fashioned cake walk, not with your empty threes and your listenings to the punk rock music, but back in our day, a cake walk was just about the most fun you could have with your clothes on, and it was even more fun with your clothes off. So we entered Paddywagon in the cake walk, and we had Pizza Pie swim up in Paddywagon's shorts and pretend he was one of Paddywagon's legs, so Paddywagon could take bigger steps.
Well, Paddywagon and Pizza Pie won that cakewalk, sure as you were born, and we all enjoyed the cake. Well, except Pizza Pie. He never was quite the same after spending all that time in Paddywagon's shorts, and he never talked to us again. But, hey, that's a moray.
You still don't get it, do you? Get off my lawn!"
(Unlocks the eel sauce drop.)
"Heh, that puts me to mind about the time Freddy Getshisheadstuckinthings got his head stuck in one of them ol' Neptune flytraps. It was back in '44, maybe '46. I think it was '44 because that was the year the factory shut down, you know the factory, used to make those things. You know what I mean, those little things you turn upside down. Wasn't much call for 'em, not around here, so eventually they closed up shop. Quite a few folks lost their jobs that year, back in '46 or maybe '44. We got through it though, yessir, we knew how to tighten our belts in those days. Not like folks these days, throwin' money around like it grew on animals or something, nossir. 'A sand-penny saved is a sand-penny earned', that's what my old dad used to say. He said a lot of other things too, like 'a bird killed in the hand is worth two killed with one stone' and 'never give a sucker a fish on his lunch break'. To be honest with you, kid, I didn't know what he was talking about most of the time, but that one with the sand-pennies and the saving and earning of 'em, that's just sensible thinking.
Oh, egg-timers. That was what they made in that factory. And we called him Freddy because it was shorter than Frederick, which was his actual name."
(Unlocks the water-polo cap drop.)
"Who? Oh, those fellas with the arms. Used to see them down the county fair with those vegetables of theirs. Why, I remember one year, me and my buddy Tuba were hanging around there, watching Tuba's Aunt Selma's prize manatee, Bessie. She'd been entered in the Best Manatee Competition that year, you see. Bessie, that, is, not Selma. We called him "Tuba" because the tuba was one of the musical instruments he couldn't play. In fact he couldn't play any instruments at all, but the tuba was one of 'em.
Anyway, one of those octopus guys were there with those radishes of theirs, you know the ones, big as your head those radishes were. Well, maybe not your head. You've got a pretty big head, kid. But they was as big as the head of someone with a head that's not as big as yours. Big radishes, that's what I'm trying to say here. You listening?
So like I was saying, me and Tuba were there keepin' an eye on Bessie, that's Tuba's Aunt Selma's prize manatee Bessie, what Selma entered in the manatee competition. That's what were were there to do, though we spent most of the time chattin' up the 4H girls in the next stall and eating fried things. You can get just about any kind of food you want fried at a county fair, you know. Hot dogs, ice cream, cotton candy, hell, you name it and they'll fry it. That's how we had a good time back in those days: eatin fried food and flirtin' with blond 4H girls. You kids these days wouldn't know nothing about that I expect, all playing those electronical shooting-them-ups and spinning around on your heads. Why would anyone want to do something called "breakdancing", that's what I'd like to know. We had the Lindy Hop, that was plenty good for us."
(Unlocks the sea radish drop.)
"Eh? What's that, kid? Oh, you mean the old Fitzsimmons wreck. Let's see, must've been back in '47... no, no, it was '48, I remember 'coz that was the year the Red Tide won the big water-polo championships. Ol' Twinky and I hitched our way out to the big city to see the game, it was the Red Tide playing against the Duluth Squids, and let me tell you, that was the game of a lifetime. Now see, Twinky had this big sack o' sandwiches that his aunt had made for him for the trip, y'see, and half of em was cheese and onion, and the rest were onion and cheese. We called him Twinky because he was tall and thin, like one of those things you put in the corner and hang hats on.
Now like I said, he had this big bag of sandwiches, and we were hitchhiking into town to see the big game, Squids versus the Tide, and round about the third inning it happened, and danged if I don't still remember it like it was yesterday. See, Big Georgie Conway was up to bat for the Squids, and I say it was the third inning, but nowadays you'd call it the eighth, that being before the water-polo league rules restructuring they did at the convention in '51, when they stopped callin' 'em quarter-innings and renumbered 'em, and let me tell you I don't cotton much to that way of thinking. Ruins the suspense, to my mind.
Anyway, Conway's up to bat and he has this steely glint in his eyes, the kind you don't see any more on these modern ball-players, all gone soft from the ridiculous salaries they give them, I tell ya we didn't even have numbers that big in those days, why, that was when a water-polo player was in it for the thrill and glory of the game, and what would you do with that kind of money anyways I ask you? But you could see from his eyes that he meant business, yesiree. And he nodded at the pitcher just as polite as can be, and pointed his bat at the far wall of the stadium, and the pitcher wound up and hurled the old beanbag and when Conway swung, well dang if you couldn't feel the current all the way up in the bleachers where Twinky and I were sitting eating those sandwiches, cheese and onion you'll recall, and those bleachers were as good a seat as anywhere in that arena and you could get a ticket for a nickel and still have change for popcorn.
Anyway Conway struck out and the Tide went on to win the series. Helluva game, it was. Ayup.
What? The old Fitzsimmons wreck? What's that got to do with water-polo? Pay attention, kid!"
"What, you think those unholy divers are scary? Back in my day, they were just divers. Nothing unholy about 'em -- they'd come down, and they'd spread their objectivist propaganda, and then they'd skedaddle back to the surface, because people back then knew their place in life, and they accepted it. It's not like today, where you've got snot-nosed Mer-kin princesses trading their voice for legs to walk on land. Nope, back then we knew it was better down where it's wetter, take it from me!
What was I talking about? Oh, yeah, the divers. If you ask me, things went wrong for them when they took up with those creepy little girls. You'll come to no good when you start hangin' around with freaky, unnatural children -- so, in other words, children -- and you'll come to plenty of bad. Those little girls with their needles and their drugs, well, they're no better than they should be. Scratch that -- they're not even as good as they should be, and they should be pretty good.
Taking drugs with needles, indeed. Back in my day, if we needed a pick-you-me-up, we'd go get a prescription for some nice, safe pills. We'd take the pills, and we'd get all antsy-in-the-pantsy, and then we'd go get some more pills to calm us down. Then we'd be too calm, so we'd -- well, you get the idea. And we were happy, dagnabbit, and we didn't have to poke ourselves with any old glowing syringes."
(Unlocks the glowing syringe drop.)
"Hmph! You'll avoid those no-good-for-nothings if you know what's good for you, kid. Nothing but idlers and wastrels. Shiftless layabouts, popping joints and stoning themselves, playin' the bongos with no shirts on and I don't know what else. Don't wanna know, either! I tell ya, those lazy junkies have really spoiled that reef. Back in my day you had a proper class of hooligan, lemme tell you! Leather jackets with bicycle chains hanging offa them, hair all slicked up with jellyfish slime into a big ol' pompadour, real sense of style them fellas had. Not like these new ones just layin around in their pajamas and their hair all long like it never saw a scissors in their lifetimes, don't know how they tell the boys from the girls. Used to be you could count on a good rumble down the Reef on a Saturday night, now the only rumble you'll hear is from those slackers snoring while they're on the nod. Disgraceful!"
(Unlocks the jellyfish gel drop.)
"Yeah, there's a few of them down in the trench. Quite a few, actually. Must've been a Jilted Southern Ladies Cruise some time back in the day, I reckon.
You know, that reminds me of the time me and Johnny Two-Fingers were out near the trench, raising the dickens. Had it about four feet up, when who should come along but Ol' Walleye Bill. Bill was 'bout the orneryest cuss in town in those days, seemed like he couldn't stand to see anyone having a good time, and since he had double-vision on account of his eyes, that made everything twice as bad to his mind. Well, ol' Bill started kickin up a ruckus, and that poor ol' ruckus never did anyone no harm that I could see, but me and Johnny Two-Fingers weren't gonna put up no fight against Walleye Bill, nossir, not if we wanted to keep our gills on the sides of our necks like we did.
So, we high-tailed it out of there 'bout as fast as a piranha on porkchop night, and when we stopped swimming we discovered we were a ways further into that trench than our folks would've permitted if they'd knew. But we sat ourselves down on a rock to rest a bit before heading back, and wouldn't you know it one of those drowned ladies drifts up out've nowhere, wailing "Whooo's got my gooolden aaaarrrrmm?" which in retrospect was a mite odd, since her arms looked pretty normal, well as normal as you'd expect anyway. But I don't mind telling you, the water got a fair bit warmer where we were sitting, if you know what I mean, and we lit on out of there like a greased electric eel. Johnny Two-Fingers lost his water-polo mitt, which was a right shame, but it was a darn sight better than losing your balls, or being taken to balls, or whatever it is those belles are like to do to a fella.
We called him Johnny Two-Fingers because he had more than two fingers, by the way."
(Unlocks the water-polo mitt drop.)
"Yeah, I've seen those new-fangled fish with their new-fangled bioluminescent thingamabobs hanging out where god 'n' everybody can see 'em. I don't take to that kind of frippery, I'll tell you that for free. You ask me, anything that hunts with one of those things is no better than he should be. Why, back in my day, all we had was candles to light our way, and they didn't give much light, what with us being at the bottom of the ocean and all.
I remember this one time, me and Paddywagon -- no, wait, that was after Paddywagon joined the service -- it must have been me, Jorg, and Noodly Bob, yeah, that's who it was, ol' Noodly Bob, with his cartilaginous skeleton. You could fold that kid up and stuff him just about anywhere. It sure came in handy when you needed to break into Old Man Skinner's tool shed. Anyway, me and Jorg and Noodly Bob were out in the Marinara Trench, holding our candles and shivering in the dark, when Jorg decides he was going to train a passing school of halibut to spell out his name. Thing was, he wanted them to spell out his whole name, which was Jorgalina Hopscotch Devalto Margnet Jones. Well, those halibut didn't take kindly to Jorg ordering them around, and before we knew it, they had beat the stuffing out of Jorg. And let me tell you, Jorg was a guy who loved his stuffing. We're talking about a pretty sizeable wad of stuffing here, and not even Noodly Bob could get it all put back in. Jorg was never quite the same after that.
Is it naptime yet?"
(Unlocks the halibut drop.)
"Mine" or "Anemone"
"You think you know about digging in a mine? Well, let me tell you something, youngun: you kids today don't know squat about fun. You stay inside all day, rotting your brains and your eyeballs with your wee boxstation games and your serieses of tubes. Back in my day, we got out of the house every once in a while!
I remember all the fun me and my buddies used to have outside. Let's see -- there was me, and ol' Paddywagon, and his little brother Jorg, and the Festering Twins, Stinky and Not-as-Stinky. We'd go out and dig in the dirt all day long, and sometimes into the night. We'd dig just for the joy of diggin'! We'd dig until our hands were bleeding and our mouth and nose were caked with dirt, because sometimes we'd dig with our mouths when our hands started to hurt too much.
And it was worth it, you hear me? It was worth it just to be out in the fresh water with your best pals, just making up games and making your own fun. Oh, and sometimes we'd find a big ol' aquamarine down in the muck, and that was the most fun of all. Legend had it that old ladies would drop 'em over the sides of boats or something, but we didn't care where they came from. We just knew that finding a gem meant we could hand it over to the man who watched us dig, and he'd finally let us rest and have something to eat. I tell you, you kids today don't know the meaning of the word 'fun.' Now get offa my lawn before I give you what for."
(Unlocks the marine aquamarine item in Anemone Mine.)
"Ha! You think you want to go messing with clownfish, little scraper? I'd wait until you're old enough to wear long pants, or you're liable to get more than your knee skinned. Those clownfish may look funny to you, junior, but they're no laughing matter.
I remember one time me and my old pal Paddywagon went to the fish circus. See, we were seeing this pair of identical twins -- and I mean identical, named Laverne and Hortence. They wanted us to take them to the circus, so we took 'em. They wanted us to win 'em big stuffed fish on the midway, and by gum, we won 'em! You kids today with your pinball games and your ping-pong tables probably don't remember how to knock over milk jugs with a baseball, but we did, and Laverne and Hortense expressed their gratefulness in a couple of identical ways that you're too young to understand.
Oh, right the clownfish. Well, after the show under the big top, we went around back to roll in the seaweed, and there was a clownfish back there, drinking rotgut whiskey. He fell down, and me and Paddywagon laughed at him, and then he challenged me and Paddywagon to a salsa-eating contest! That was how we always settled disputes in my day -- none of your fistfights or roshambo, just a vat of salsa per man, and may the best man win.
Anyway, that clownfish ate that salsa like he was born at the bottom of a barrel of salsa and had to eat his way out, only long enough ago that he was hungry again, and all he was hungry for was salsa.
That clownfish walked away with Laverne and Hortense and left us looking like a couple of salsa-faced mooks. You steer clear of those clownfish, whippersnapper, you hear? Even the little ones are trouble.
Actually,especially[sic] the little ones."
(Unlocks the midget clownfish drop.)
"Ha! You think that lounge lizardfish knows something about tippling, kiddo? Let me tell you, sprout, you kids today don't know anything about getting drunk. You have yourself two or three drinks with some fruity girl name and all kinds of ingredients that aren't even booze, and then you stagger around like you're completely blotto. Back in my day, we really knew how to get cockeyed. We'd tie one on until we were three sheets to the wind. After that, we'd have another snootful until we were pie-eyed, and we woulnd't[sic] stop until we were schnockered. Why, I'll bet I'm three times you're age, and I could still drink you under the table and out the other side.
Oh, sure, the next day I'd wake up and it'd feel like someone stuffed a whole dead cat into my mouth, and half the time that's exactly what had happened. My head would hurt so bad that I'd bang it on the floor because that felt a little better in comparison. But let me tell you, back in those days you couldn't just call in sick and lie down in the dark all day like you pantywaists do nowadays. My boss down at the anemone mine, Ol' Doc Respiration we used to call him, because if you missed a day of work he'd dock your pay if you were still breathing. Ol' Doc wouldn't stand for anyone having a hangover. He never touched the stuff himself -- never trust someone like that, much less work for 'em, young 'un, that's my advice. Anyway, whenever I woke up after a night in my cups, I knew how to get rid of that hangover and get to work on time. You see, you just have to have a bit of the hair of the fish that bit you.
What? I know fish don't usually have hair! What, do you think I'm senile? But I'm telling you, that's the surefire hangover cure: a little hair of the fish."
(Unlocks the hair of the fish drop.)
"Ha! You think you know anything about nurses? Let me tell you, back in my day we knew exactly how to treat a nurse shark, whippersnapper. We would sneak into the Dive Bar, and we'd buy the nurse shark drink all night. No, no, that's not a typographical error, whatever that is -- we'd buy him one drink, and it'd last him all night. Once he was good and liquored up, we'd steal one of his blank prescription pads and get up to all kinds of hijinks!
I remember this one time, it was me and the Festering Twins, Stinky and Not-As-Stinky, and we got ahold of a blank prescription pad and then we hit the town. We got us some prescription-strength deodorant for Stinky, and prescription-strength mouthwash for Not-as-Stinky, and then I wrote myself a prescription for something special.
You see, I used to have this rash that covered my whole body from my clavicles to my knees -- knee-to-clavicle dermatitis, I called it, but no doctor would ever examine it close enough to treat it. So I wrote myself a prescription for some extra-strength medicated liniment, and before long that rash cured right up! The only side effect was that I hallucinated for a week straight. I thought I was a set of venetian blinds, and so I spent the whole week hanging in a window and pulling my knees up whenever someone wanted to let in some light.
Those were the best seven days of my life, let me tell you that -- I cried for three straight hours when it wore off and I had to be a Sea Monkee again. I tell you, you kids don't know how much fun it is, being a venetian blind, and you probably never will, because you're too busy with your hippity-hoppity music and your tattoos. Feh! Good riddance to the lot of you."
(Unlocks the blank prescription sheet drop.)
"Scales" or "Scale"
"What? Oh, those things off of fish. Little hard bits. Usedta go to school with a fish, what was his name... I think we just called him Fish, what with him being a fish and all. Anyway Fish had this bad dandruff, always shedding scales all the time. Maybe he had one of those diseases fish get that cause them to lose their scales, I dunno. But those scales just poured offa that fella. We used to say if someone ever caught him and put him in a fishbowl it'd be like an instant one of them things, ayup.
You know what I mean. Those things you shake.
Anyway, scales, yep, you see a lot of those around, what with all the fish and all. You know, those fish you see around, with the scales. My wife makes stuff out of 'em on occasion, the scales that is, not the fish. Well, she makes a trout almondine once in a while, so it's not that she never makes anything out of fish, you understand, but that's not what I'm talking about here. I'm talking about scales.
That's a damn fine meal, my wife's trout almondine. Better than you'll find in any of them fancy cloth-napkin restaurants, I'll tell you that for free.
But yeah, thing is though, ya can't make stuff outta just any ol' scales. Not them torn-up dull-looking old scales that just flake offa any old fish, nossir, you gotta get good ones. Well I guess you could use the dull ones, now that I think about it, but your results wouldn't be worth a tinker's damn. No point to wasting your time on that rubbish. If you're gonna do something you ought to do it right, and that means getting the good scales, assuming what you're gonna do is make something out of scales.
You know, this conversation reminds me of a fella I met down in Madness Reef one time... seemed mighty concerned about scales that fella did. Said he was an economist or something, fella just wouldn't stop talkin' about scales. Scales this and scales that and scales the other, that was this fella's line. Didn't understand a word of it.
I still don't know where she gets the almonds from."
(Unlocks the Heavily Invested in Pun Futures adventure in Madness Reef.)
"You steer clear of them Mer-kin fellas, hear? They'll put a spear through your bung soon as look at you. Or worse.
Tell you the truth, kid, I'm a mite worried about those bastards. Been a long time since you saw em out this ways, and then just a scout or a hunter who'd wandered out too far. Used to be they'd keep pretty close to that old ruined city out yonder, what they set up shop in, back in... well, I don't rightly remember what year, but it's longer ago than I've been alive, and that's saying something. My own Grandpappy (mayherestinpeace) used to tell me stories about them from when he was a tad, so it's been a right long time, you can be sure of that.
Might be there's something to them rumors I've been hearing... well, the less said about that, the better."
(Unlocks the "rumor/rumors/rumour/rumours" topic.)
"What's that, whippersnapper? Speak up when you're speaking! Don't go around mumbly-grumbling like some kind of mush-mouthed mewly-faced mime! You mumble as bad as old Mumbletypeg Fred, the merkin fish. He said he was from the greatest country in the whole world, and that's why he mumbled that way, but all he could talk about was merkin this and merkin that and the merkin way and the merkin people. Then when I laughed at him, he called me a terrace and said he wasn't intimidated by my terrace acts. Take it from me, kid, you don't want to be like ol' Mumbletypeg Fred. You'd better knock off all this merkin business while you know what's good for you."
"Children" or "Child" or "Mom" or "Dad" or "Daughter"
"Hey, y'know, come to think of it, I haven't seen my daughter and that no-good shiftless husband of hers around here in quite a while. I wonder where they got off to. Oh well, I'm sure they'll turn up eventually."
"Big Brother" or "Grandson" or "Grandchild" or "Grandkid"
"Chip off the old block, that kid. Runs his store like a champ. He's got initiative, and he's not afraid of a little old-fashioned hard work."
"Oh, you mean my other grandson? Eh. I don't have anything to say about that pansy."
"No, whippersnapper, I'm Grandpa Sea Monkee. Look, if you can't tell the difference, I certainly ain't the one to teach you. Don't you have parents? Or pornography?
Oh, you want to know about Grandma Sea Monkee. She was a hot little number back in the summer of '23. That was the year there was that red tide that wiped out most of my friends -- Paddywagon kept trying to eat the algae, and eventually he went plumb crazy and jumped up out of the water so high that he suffocated before he landed. Then the Festering Twins, Stinky and Not-so-stinky, well, what happened to them was a shame. It shouldn't happen to someone that young, you know? I mean, I'm old now, and I don't much care if I live or if I die, but those Festering Twins . . . well, the less said about that, the better.
So anyway, it was the summer of '23 and me and Noodly Bob -- he survived the red tide, but he always had a migraine headache after that, for the rest of his life -- me and Noodly Bob went to one of those newfangled dance halls to see if we could pick us up some women. That's where I saw her, there on the dance floor, and I thought she was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. Now, mind you, she wasn't doing the dancing you kids do nowadays, where it looks like you're trying to roll in the hay right there on the dance floor. No, she was doing the Westboro, a flapper dance, and she was flappin' like nobody's business. I scooted in and we cut a rug for a while, and after they threw us out (apparently, it was a pretty expensive rug), I introduced myself. I knew we were meant to be when she told me her name was Grandma -- it just seemed like Kismet, which is some foreign speech for "we should get to suckin' face like a couple of barrrnacles." Before too long, we got ourselves half nelsoned. Wait, what do you kids call it these days? Going steady? Right. Back then, when you loved a girl, you would get down on one knee, and she would get down on all fours, and then you'd put her in a headlock, and if she couldn't get out of the headlock in thirty seconds, then you were half nelsoned.
Ah, she was quite the spunky little spitfire, was Grandma back in those days . . .
You know, come to think of it, I haven't seen her in at least a week. She was going to go play some Bingo over to the Our Lady of Perpetual Motion Church, but those games usually only go a day or two. I sure hope those dadblasted Mer-kin didn't get a hold of her. They've been coming closer and closer to our castle, and let me tell you, I'm not prejudiced against any of God's creatures, but I've never met a Mer-Kin who wasn't a no-good good-for-nothing punk. Grandma isn't the hotsie-totsie kitten she was in the summer of '23, but I'd still hate to think what a degenerate, genetically-inferior-to-me Mer-Kin would do to her, not that I'm a racist.
Now that I think about it, I'll bet those lousy Mer-kin up and kidnapped her. They probably took her to their outpost, which is way too close to the castle -- I mean, I'm no racist, but I've got to think about my property values, you know? I just wish people would be a little more discerning about who they let move in here."
"You know, come to think of it, I haven't seen her in at least a week. She was going to go play some Bingo over to the Our Lady of Perpetual Motion Church, but those games usually only go a day or two. I sure hope those dadblasted Mer-kin didn't get a hold of her. They've been coming closer and closer to our castle, and let me tell you, I'm not prejudiced against any of God's creatures, but I've never met a Mer-Kin who wasn't a no-good good-for-nothing punk. Grandma isn't the hotsie-totsie kitten she was in the summer of '23, but I'd still hate to think what a degenerate, genetically-inferior-to-me Mer-Kin would do to her, not that I'm a racist.
Oh, you rescued her and she's back? Oh, well that's good, I suppose. I hope you gave those filthy, barely-better-than-animals Mer-kin a what-for. Not that I'm a racist.
I do appreciate you showing some gumption and rescuing her, though. Now it'll be just like old times, with her always asking me what I'm doing and where I'm going, and giving me the business for drinking too much, and covering everything that isn't nailed down in a little crocheted cozy. . .
. . . I don't suppose you'd be interested in getting her kidnapped again, would you? You don't have to do it yourself, just take her for a walk over by the Mer-kin outpost, and just let nature take its course.
Nah, I'm just kidding. I love the old broad, even if she isn't the hotsie-totsie hottentot she was in '23. We're still half-nelsoned after all these years."
"Note? What note, Charlie? I don't see any note.
And who the heck is Charlie? Get out of here, kid."
"Yup, that note's definitely Grandma Sea Monkee's handwriting. I'd recognize it anywhere; when I used to work in the fish mines, she'd put a little handwritten note in my lunch every day. You know, stuff like, "I love you," "I want to jump your bones," and "please pick up a carton of buttermilk on the way home." Let me tell you, those notes tasted terrible!
Anyway, this looks to be a crochet pattern. That woman's plumb crazy when she gets her hands on some yarn. She won't rest until every single object in this house has a little sweater on it. The pattern's no good without at least two colors of yarn to go with it, though, so I guess you'd best keep lookin'."
"Yup, that note's definitely Grandma Sea Monkee's handwriting. I'd recognize it anywhere; when I used to work in the fish mines, she'd put a little handwritten note in my lunch every day. You know, stuff like, "you're a worthless bum," "I'm leaving you for the milkman," and "try not to not choke on this." Leastways, those were the kind of notes she started leaving as the years went by. I could tell she loved me and was just having a laugh, though.
Anyway, this looks to be a crochet pattern. That woman's plumb crazy when she gets her hands on some yarn. She won't rest until every single object in this house has a little sweater on it. Looks like this pattern takes two colors of yarn -- oh, you've got them right there! Well, this is definitely Grandma Sea Monkee's yarn, because these are her two favorite colors. I think she's either colorblind, or her parents were circus folk.
Here, gimme that. See, the way the pattern works is you take this bit here, and you go underneath and above and weave it through, right, and then you tie this part off, and then you start the next row -- what? I'm retired, whippersnapper, and I've got to do something while I fill the empty hours waiting to die. Anyway, all finished -- here you go."
"Rumor" or "Rumors" or "Rumour" or "Rumours"
"That's a never-you-mind, kid. Just keep clear of them Mer-kin fellas like I told you."
"... You're a persistent little cuss, ain'tcha? All right, look, don't be spreading this around, you keep this under yer hat, hear? But word on the street is, them fellas are getting braver than usual because they found some sort of ancient hoodoo or something deep in that sunken ruin of theirs, something left behind from their ancestors, or maybe even from before the city fell, I dunno. Load of hogwash, you ask me, but you never can be sure, so you'll stay away from those Mer-kin if you know what's good for you."
"Trophyfish? You don't wanna be messing with them, kid. Not less'n you want first prize for getting your bung chewed off by some kinda crazy fish. They used to have one up on a shelf at the Dive Bar. I don't go there much these days -- Doc says boozin's bad for my whoosis -- but sometimes a man needs a drink, and you want a drink in this dadblasted town, there's precious little choice. And by that I mean no choice at all. It sure ain't the place it used to be, though, not since it got all trendy. Useta be a proper bar, someplace you could go to get a beer and shoot a game of sandbox after work, and not be rubbin' dorsal-fins with all these guppies and slick-jimmies. Harrumph!
Useta have a good ol' time in there though. Why, I remember one Saturday night, I was down there with No Nickname Pete and his brother Mickey -- he weren't really his brother, we just said that 'cause of how they looked so much alike. Brothers? Heh! Pete was a mackerel and Mickey was one o' them crab-things that look like an upside-down bucket with a spike on the back. Weren't no way them two were brothers...
Stop lookin' at me all impatient, kid. I know you wanna hear about the danged trophyfish, I'm gettin' to that.
Anyway I'm in the bar with No Nickname Pete and his brother Mickey, and now I think of it, it might have been Mickey that was the mackerel, not Pete. Mickey the mackerel, that's got a certain ring to it, don't it? Hmmmm...
Can't remember. What was I talking about? Oh, that guy what caught the trophyfish, up in the Deepers. Well, some guy caught a trophyfish up in the Deepers. Lost both his legs catching it, too. Now go away while I try and remember which one of 'em was the mackerel."
(Unlocks the trophyfish encounter in The Brinier Deepers.)
"Hmph! Them gals ain't no better than they ought to be, believe you me. You'd do well to stay away from fish of such loose moral character! And I ain't just flappin' my gums here, Junior, I know from experience!
Why, one time I went on a double-date with my pal Fatneck and two o' them groupies that he'd picked up by tellin' them he was in a band -- an' that was true as far as it went, 'cept it was the school marching band. He played one o' them big ol' tubas that coil up around yer head. Now that I think about it, I think that may have been why we called him Fatneck, coz of the way his gills puffed out when he blew into that monstrosity of a musical instrument. Went all "Blaaaaaaarp" like someone had stepped in a basket of sea cucumbers.
Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, groupies. Well, we went to the old drive-in picture show, and me and my date were in front and Fatneck and his date were in the rumble-seat, and let me tell you the way they carried on I nearly dropped my popcorn! I saw me some things in that rear-view mirror I like to thought hadn't even been invented yet, and that's for certain. And wouldn't you know I didn't get so much as a finjob! Told me she was savin' herself for the spawning grounds, or some other damnfool lie. Humph!
Anyway it took ol' Fatneck a good fortnight to pick all the glittery bits out of his hair what had rubbed offa her outfit. We always told him he shouldn't use so much brilliantine."
(Unlocks the groupie spangles drop.)
"What? Aw, dangit, you went and distracted me! I was remembering one of my favorite radio stories, and now I went and lost my place. I'll have to start over at the commercial, and now I'll have that stupid cigarette jingle stuck in my head all day! What do you want?
Currants? Them little raisin things that look like mouse turds? What d'you want to know about them for? What d'you think I know about that? Don't give me that look, of course I know what a mouse is! I may be aquatic, but I've read a book or two in my life, not like you kids these days with your moving pictures and text-phones where you can't use all the letters.
Oh, currents. Well you might have said so in the first place, instead of mumbling and talking to your shoes all the time! When I was a lad I knew how to look a fella in the eye when I talked to him! Anyway, yeah, we've got currents around here. Good strong ones too, not the little breezes you get most places these days. Johnny Two-Fingers got caught in one'a them once, carried him clear to Timbuktu and he had to hop a freight to get back. That's what he told us anyhow, but I was always suspicious of that on account of he was back before dinnertime. Johnny Two-Fingers was always makin' up fibs anyway. Told me once he taught a clam to whistle the national anthem, but he wouldn't show it to me on account of it havin' stage fright. Pfft! How's a clam whistle without lips anyway?
But yeah, them currents. Can't swim 'em, not less you wanna end up in Timbuktu. Legs ain't strong enough, certainly not a landlubber's legs like them things you got. Gonna need one of them seahorses like they keep at the Coral Corral. Lemme see that mess you call a map. Yeah, there's where it is, right there.
Now stop pestering me with all this nonsense about mouse turds so I can get back to my stories! 'Cancerfield cigarettes keep your T-zone smelling great! Soothe your throat and lungs with that fine sweetened menth - o - late!'"
- Clicking on Grandpa's window used to yield the message:
- You approach the window to Grandpa's room, and hear snoring. Looks like Grandpa's taking a nap.
- "currents" will only be available after unlocking Intense Currents. Trying before will yield only one of the messages below.
- When asking about topics that Grandpa doesn't know anything about, you randomly get one of the following responses:
- "Quit mumbling! In my day we spoke clearly to our elders, not muttering all the time like a trout with a mouth full of marbles!"
- "Huh? When's Jell-o?"
- "I'll tell you one thing I've learned, whippersnapper: oatmeal will keep you regular, but it might give you diabeetus."
- "Beats me, kid. Pass me that jar of liniment, will ya?"
- "What? Marie died, you know!"
- "You're talking too loud, because I'm too old!"
- "Who? Never heard of him."
- "Hmm, well, I don't know anything about that, but it does recall to mind an extremely long and uninteresting story about the time me and Three-Time Ralph were playing hooky from school and... hey! Where are you going?"
- "What? You'll have to speak up, kid, I left my ear-horn on the bus."
- "I don't know nothing about that, so there's nothing worth knowing about it."
- According to Jick, anything that you unlock persists across all ascensions, except for adventuring zone unlocks, such as The Mer-Kin Outpost.
- The fish with a scar on his head in the "wizardfish" story is a reference to the Harry Potter series, with Grandpa's role in his story spoofing that of Draco Malfoy.
- The "eel" story references the song "That's Amore". The phrase, "that's a moray" is a play on the song's title and the eel's name, Pizza Pie, comes directly from the lyrics.
- The first paragraph in the "diver" story references The Little Mermaid with some of the dialogue taken from the lyrics to "Under The Sea".
- Divers hanging around with creepy little girls in the "diver" story is a reference to BioShock, as is the mention of objectivist propaganda; the society of Rapture and the initial antagonist of the game drew heavily on objectivism.
- The diving belle story references an old spooky story about a widower who decides to dig up the grave of his dead wife to take back the golden prosthetic arm he gave her as a wedding present. He is then haunted until he meets a ghostly demise. Don't steal from the dead, kids.
- The "mine" story about finding gems underground and handing them to a supervisor references the Louis Sachar novel Holes. The part about old ladies dropping the gems over the sides of boats refers to the movie Titanic.
- Mumbletypeg Fred is most likely a lampoon of former President George W. Bush, who was known for his Southern drawl and for whom the subject of being a "merkin" ('merican) and labeling people as "terrace" (terrorists) were commonplace.
- "What? Marie died, you know!" and "Huh? When's Jell-o?" are references to a series of jokes about an elderly character in the Mystery Science Theater 3000 episode "The Deadly Mantis."
- The message about oatmeal and "diabeetus" refers to Wilford Brimley, an actor arguably best known for his commercials for Quaker Oatmeal. More recently, he has done commercials for a company that provides equipment for regulating diabetes, which he pronounces like "diabeetus."
- "You're talking too loud, because I'm too old!" is a reference to a phrase about music: "If it's too loud, you're too old."
- "...I left my ear-horn on the bus" is a reference to MC Frontalot's song "This Old Man."