Happy anniversary, <NAME>!
I was walking through the ruins of a decaying temple in Central America when I was suddenly surrounded by a strange mist. I awoke to find myself in a vast stone room that was eerily familiar.
“Supplicant!” a voice boomed. “We have need of you!”
“Right,” I sighed, “The League of Assassins. What do you want?”
“Firstly,” the voice continued, “I do not care for your insolent tone. Second, you will bring us <NAME>!”
I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed a hand over my face, knowing I would regret my next exasperated question. “Why do I need to bring you <NAME>?”
“He must undergo the dread ritual and become… THE OCTO HYDRA!” The room shook, sending dust falling from the decrepit stone ceiling.
“Ok, so,” I began, “you still haven’t gotten that fixed. Also, a hydra has five heads, so what is an octo hydra? Is it like an eight headed hydra, or is it a eight hydras, meaning it would have forty heads? Or…”
“It has one head!” the voice shouted, “Behold!”
The stonework before me illuminated, revealing a carving of a man in an apron and chef’s hat, stirring a bowl with a spoon.
“Right,” I said, drawing out the word. “Don’t you guys pretty much just eat honey nut cheerios? I mean, why do you need a chef?”
“Because,” the voice protested, “We just do. Shut up. Bring us Paul, and he will undergo the ritual of the octo hydra!”
I folded my arms and trapped my foot impatiently. “What, exactly, does this ritual entail”
“First, he must don the skin of the octo hydra!”
“Ok,” I said, “So he puts on the apron…”
“Next,” the voice continued, “He must wear the cowl of the octo hydra.”
“So the hat.”
“Shut up!” the strange voice commanded. “Finally, he must wield the wand of the octo hydra!”
“And there is the spoon. Great. Can I go now?”
“No,” the voice replied.
I stood there waiting for a few moments as the situation grew more awkward. I began to push small piles of dust around with my feet.
“Now you can go,” the voice said, “and remember your task!”
“I’ve already forgotten it,” I offered as the mist swirled and took me away. I awoke back in the temple, a wooden spoon at my feet.
“Stupid league of stupid assassins,” I muttered, stumbling back out into the daylight.