People who are very, very high just looooove sandwiches, after all.
"John Denver betrayed us," they cried! (They meant Bob Denver.) Fortunately, they finally convinced the Tribesanistan Tribesandwichstand to deliver to the island. These goddamn stoner kids were obviously very, very disappointed when they realised that, despite what goddamn-stoner-kid-favourite situation comedy Gilligan's Island had told them, one actually cannot fashion picture-perfect coconut cream pies out of the raw materials present on any given desert island. Others suggested taking advantage of the native plantlife of the island. Some suggested growing crops, but backed off from this idea when they realised that every stalk of corn was occupying space where they could've planted a pot plant. And, um, the Xbox 360 was not yet invented in 1985. Or beardly brother figures with vaguely effeminate liegemen. They can't just waltz upstairs and prepare five consecutive half-assed dishes all involving cheese and noodles in some way, reaping the foody benefits but leaving the cheesy pots and pans out for days and days until they stink up the house to the point where some sort of beardly brother figure and his vaguely effeminate liegeman are forced to clean it up themselves while you remain downstairs in your sweltering pit of sorrow playing zombie-themed "entertainment" on your Microsoft Xbox 360, no sirree! They cannot do this, because they are on a desert island, which does not have cheese or noodles. Food was scarce, which is obviously a problem with a group of people whose lifestyle entails 24/7 munchies. Life in Unnamed Nativitafarian Colony was rough. Their unnamed colony was nobly founded on the shores of some shitty little abandoned island. Aforementioned goddamn kids were obviously thrilled with the prospect of being able to get high all day under the shoddy guise of following a great historical figure in a noble spiritual quest, and thus they came up with the terrific idea of starting up the New Nativitafarian Movement.
Yes, even bastardize cherished spiritual and historical traditions! Centuries after the hilarious demise of Emperor Wuu's empire, these goddamn kids realised their personal belief in the awesomeness of smoking weed, all the time, constantly, forever, stupidly enough, nicely lined up with Emperor Wuu's belief in the same. So, you see, law enforcement is a rather sore subject for them.) They wanted the chance to smoke cannabismal things without fearing retaliation, and they would do anything to justify it. (Australia, you see, was originally where the Brits sent their dirty, dirty murderous criminals. A bunch of Aussie kids were sick and tired of being pushed around by the law. Ronald "Wilson" Reagan was in office, but that's irrelevant, for it is in Australia that this story lies. The Sequel to the New Nativitan Empire: The Whimsical Tale of a Bunch of Idiots, Their Felonious Flora, and Substandard Standards of Pet Reptile Care This level sucks so much, you'll be itching to say, "Goodbye, road!"
#The high road crash bandicoot professional#
At least the Professional Wartie Impersonators who starred in all their favourite stoner comedies live on, I guess. Those goddamn kids died, but their malnourished Vibrating Wooden Turtles live on, even in death. Neo Cortex bought the island for his own private consumption, he made sure to get rid of them, to death.
This noble spiritual entity consisted of a bunch of goddamn kids who liked smoking the reprehensible cannabis plant, or as it's slangily known on the streets, "marihuana". This is no coincidence, for this level takes place within the home of the former New Nativitafarian Movement. Wait - where did we see rickety rope bridges before? That is something we saw before, in the old New Nativitanian territory, coincidentally enough! For some reason, the only way to get between the two is by crossing a rickety old rope bridge. Crashie's short-lived celebration is short-lived, however, as he discovers the horrifying truth: the commute from Cortex Castle to Cortie Powie is a fucking cunt. Crash has just scored a major coup by non-fatally assassinating the majestic Pinstripe Potoroo in his Cortex Power office.
The High Road is the nineteenth level of Crashie's Sexxy Maiden Voyage.
0 kommentar(er)
