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Boots

Boots

On the road, there’s nothin’ so important as a pair of comfortable, hard-wearin’, warm boots. Aside from Colt, they’re the first thing on my list when I’m plannin’ my next journey.

Y’see, as a traveller, the miles you walk are your whole life. On the road, there is no end in sight. The boots become almost like a bed for your weary feet the whole long day. The journey is made much more bearable when you’re well equipped, which is why I replace my boots whenever they get too rough.

When I visited one specific level of Arcadia, level designation 242, I struggled. Me and Colt were fightin’ against the savage inhabitants, but we were also fightin’ against our surroundings. Y’see, designation 242 is a humid area, filled with potholes, and most of those potholes are filled with some kind of tar-like substance, which holds on to your extremities and doesn’t want to let go.

When I first traversed this place, I made the mistake of underestimatin’ the landscape, and I stepped in a pothole of such gloop. I was not able to free myself for quite some time, and in the end had to remove my left foot from the boot in which it was encased.

It was shortly after that that the locals arrived with their pomp and their artillery.

I ran, and Colt alongside me, but I was impeded.

As I ran, the sharp stones littered around the ground dug into my sole, drawin’ blood and slowin’ me down. The more blood there was, the more wounds for dirt and grime to enter. The more dirt and grime that entered, the slower and harder I had to run, until eventually I could do nothin’ but turn and fight. To die on the metaphorical hill I had found myself on.

Y’see, it doesn’t matter how comfortable, hard-wearin’ or warm your boots are or if they’re like a bed for your feet, because you’ll soon be found sleepin’ if you ain’t got a pair.

One boot without the other, it just don’t hit the same.

The Lucky Charms are like that pair of boots. They’re comfortable within their own empire, hard-wearin’ due to the lifestyle they’ve chosen to lead, and warm because their lootin’ allows them to spend credits on a habitable livin’ arrangement. But that comes to naught if Tallywhack is taken out of the equation. This week, Tallywhack is for all intents and purposes stuck in that very same tar I encountered, and as comfortable, hard-wearin’ and warm as you feel alongside him, Knick Knack, you ain’t shit alone.

Without him you’re just a right boot, allowin’ the dirt and grime to enter the bloodstream without the trusty left boot. Me and Colt, we thrive on pickin’ apart the weak and vulnerable, and the first port of call is to divide and conquer. So divide we have, and conquer we shall, and your lonely, insipid old single boot will be tossed out in the trash. We survived losin’ the other boot – can you?

Believe me – I’ve seen a lot in Arcadia, but you ain’t never seen nothin’ like me.