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You pause for a moment,
thinking carefully. It's important to ask JUST the right question here,
because you may not get another chance. And there's no telling where the
severed head of Arnold Schwarzenegger could be without finding the right
clues. Slowly cocking your head to the side and raising an eyebrow, you
cautiously ask "Saaaaaaaaaaay...know of any good places to eat around
here?"
"Are ye daft? I've spent the last five bloody years foosterin' in this
statue's arse, and here you be asking me if I know of any good places to
eat?? Oh, suuuure! I know a great place! It's right behind the left
buttock, you gobshite! And then after you enjoy gobbling up what you
find there, you can move round to the front side of the trousers and get
yerself a drink. Yer a real feckin' plonker, ye are! Askin' a stupid
question like that!"
"Oh shit," you think. "I blew it. I could have asked him anything at
all, like where the actual treasure map is, or how he got up Lincoln's
ass in the first place, and I went and blew it all on this. Just fucking
great."
"Although," Lucky muses, "there used to be this quite good Mexican eatin'
house right down Wisconsin Avenue. It's probably still there. Ah, come
on! Let's go get pissed!" Before you know it, Lucky is taking off like a
bat out of hell. For a little leprechaun he can sure move fast! Racing
for all you're worth, you just barely manage to keep up, and by the time
you actually see the place, you're completely out of breath.
"Ahh, there it is! El
Mexicano Grande! Now let's get bolloxed!"
"'The Big Mexican'? What the hell kind of name is that?" you say, but
Lucky is already well out of earshot. Fearful of losing him, you quickly
find yourself inside the restaurant waiting to be seated.
"Ah, this idea of yours was bang on, laddie! I've not had a proper meal
in ages!" Lucky exclaims eagerly as the waiter seats you in a booth in
the middle of the restaurant. While Lucky pours over the menu, you
decide this is a good time to explain your situation. "You see, Lucky,
I'm on a treasure hunt and I need to find the head of Arnold
Schwarzenegger, which is probably still attached to Arnold, so in that
case I need to find Arnold Schwarzenegger's whole self, and I was told
there was a clue in the Lincoln Memorial but that led me to you, and you
led me here, so I'm thinking there might be a clue here and I'm hoping
maybe you can help me find it."
You look up from your menu and see that Lucky is busy drooling over the
Alcoholic Beverages section, and he probably hasn't heard a word you
said. Just as you're about to restate your purpose, the waiter comes up
and asks what you would like to drink. "Pepsi," you say boldy and
confidently, with a satisfied smile on your face. "Very good, amigo! And
what about the cartoon midget?"
"MIDGET??? MIDGET??? YOU FECKING TOSSER! I'LL FECKING KILL YOU!!!" You
stare in awe as Lucky goes into berzerker rage, foam pouring out of his
mouth and a big vein popping out on his forehead looking for all the
world like it's going to burst. Suddenly you notice that the pupils of
his eyes have morphed into bright blue diamonds that shine with a
surprising intensity. Just a moment after you make this observation,
brilliant laser beams of blue light shoot forth from Lucky's eyes,
disintegrating the waiter in a brilliant flash, leaving nothing but a
smoldering pile of ashes behind.
"Oh shit!" you
shout as the entire restaurant stares at your table in shock. "I've got
to do something!" you think, desperately trying to come up with some
kind of plan.
You decide to:
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