Yak Shaving for Kicks and Giggles!
J. J. Guest
absurd cover art humor Inform 7 parser short silly The Odd Competition walkthrough yak yeti
You are Steve Goodwin. You're a regular guy, young, successful, dynamic. But a nagging question gnaws at your soul, undermines your joy at your success and interferes with the very business of living. For this is not an answer you can find in the pages of any book. What you yearn to know is  the meaning of life itself! But then you learned about a man, a guru of great wisdom, endowed with the miraculous 'supreme realization', who could teach you the secrets of the universe! A six-hundred-year-old hermit, living at the top of a mountain in a kingdom most right-thinking people assume to be a myth. A man known as  the Dada Lama! And this is why we find you now, after many months of journeying, of fruitless searching, beaten and battered by the uncaring elements, in this mysterious valley hidden deep within the mountains... ... the mystical valley of Shangri-La! Yak Shaving for Kicks and Giggles! is a humorous quest for spiritual enlightenment involving a yak, a disposable razor, a jar of pickled eggs and the abominable snowman.
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You are Steve Goodwin. You're a regular guy, young, successful, dynamic. Recently promoted to the post of junior marketing executive at the Funhouse Novelty Company, you're the one who comes up with all those zany items you can buy for a Dollar in the pages of Cosmic Comics.

But something is missing in your life. A nagging question gnaws at your soul, undermines your joy at your new-found success and interferes with the very business of living. But this is not a answer you can find in the pages of any book; for what you yearn to know is the very meaning of life itself!

But then you learned about a man, a guru of great wisdom, endowed with the miraculous supreme realisation who could teach him the secrets of the universe. A six hundred year old hermit living at the top of a mountain in a kingdom most right-thinking people assume to be a myth. A man known as the Dada Lama!

And this is why we find you now, after many months of journeying, of fruitless searching, beaten and battered by the uncaring elements, in this mysterious valley hidden deep within the mountains...

...the mystical valley of Shangri-La!

Yak Shaving for Kicks and Giggles!
A Philosophical Odyssey by J. J. Guest

You weren't sure what to expect from the mystic valley of Shangri-La. You'd heard all the stories of course -- a land of mystery and matchless beauty where life is lived in tranquil wonder, beyond the grasp of a doomed world! That's what it said in the brochure, anyway...

What you weren't expecting was a caravan park. But there's no mistaking the large sign over the entrance: "Shangri-La Caravan Park welcomes the pure of soul -- 200 Spaces Available." Most of the spaces are empty.

Directly ahead is perhaps the loveliest mountain you have ever seen; an almost perfect cone of snow, it is as though a small child had dropped a Cornetto in the middle of the valley. A broad path leads north to the mountain, and on either side are narrow trails leading northeast and northwest.
About yourself
Your long journey has left you looking a bit frayed around the edges. Your hand-tooled Mexican boots are curled up at the toes and your elaborately embroidered Afghan coat is falling apart at the seams. You've looked better, and you'd be feeling a lot better too if you hadn't eaten that dodgy burger at the Happy Eater on the M4.
You go northwest
Here, in the foothills of the mountains is a meadow of lush grass, strewn with boulders and dotted with tall wild flowers that frug and shimmy in the breeze. A pastoral idyll in other words, marred only by the fact that someone has erected a barn smack in the middle of it. A windowless wooden box, this barn, of no great architectural merit. Daubed above the entrance are the words "Yak Shed".

To the east, a rugged path leads down into the valley whilst other, more ordinally inclined paths lead northeast and southeast.
You examine the barn
A windowless wooden box of no great architectural merit. The builder has thoughtfully provided an opening through which to enter.
You examine the flowers
If you were a botanist you'd realise that many of these precious flowers are endemic to this little-known, largely unexplored region. Unfortunately you're not, so to you they're just a lot of pretty flowers that add a splash of colour to an otherwise unprepossessing location.
Smell flowers
Ah! The delicate fragrance of alpine flowers.
You take the flowers
You decide to leave the flowers alone.
You enter the barn
You take a few steps inside the yak shed, but the smell is so overpowering that within moments you are outside again, gasping for air. If you've ever wondered how a hamster cage would smell to a bloodhound, now you know.
You hold the nose
That seems to be a part of yourself.
Frug
You begin to clambake like nobody's business. Groovy, man.
Go northeast
You are standing at the foot of the glacier, a sheer wall of ice that would dwarf the tallest skyscraper. For thousands of years it has followed this valley like the world's most doggedly determined Slush Puppie. Scattered around are immense boulders deposited here by the glacier during its inexorable retreat. Who knows what else might have been swept up in this monstrous river of ice?

To the south the holy mountain broods over the valley like a thundercloud. Narrow trails lead southeast and southwest.
You rub the frost
You rub away a patch of frost and gaze into the pure ice, clear as crystal. For the briefest of moments you glimpse another face, leathery and ancient, staring back at you. Something, or someone, has been trapped in the ice - perhaps for aeons! Within seconds the ice has frosted over again.
Go southeast
That you are standing outside the caravan of one of Shangri-La's permanent residents is evidenced by the fact that a tiny section of garden has been fenced off. This garden consists of a small patch of meticulously raked gravel, with, placed at harmonious intervals, two potted bonsai trees, three garden gnomes (all in the lotus position) and the inevitable plastic flamingo. The door to the caravan is open, revealing a curtain of colourful plastic ribbons that flutter in the breeze.

Paths lead west to the mystic mountain, northwest to the glacier and southwest to the camp entrance.
You wake flamingo
You can only do that to something animate.
You examine the caravan
(the monk's caravan)
A tiny teardrop trailer, neat, tidy and well cared for. The door is open, revealing a curtain of colourful plastic ribbons that flutter in the breeze.
You examine the ribbons
As well as making a stylish design statement, this curtain of colourful plastic ribbons is good for keeping out flies.
You look at the fence
A ridiculous plastic picket fence about a foot high.
Enter
The inside of this tiny caravan is completely bare as befits a monk's cell. Only the fitted furniture remains, and presumably its owner's few possessions are secreted away in the handy under-seat storage areas. The only other feature is the colourful ribbon curtain through which you entered.

Sat cross-legged on the built in sofa is a tiny monk with a disproportionately large shaven head. He appears to be deep in mediation.
You examine monk
There is no reply.

This must be one of those monks who sit in meditation for days or even months and years without ever feeling the need for food or water. He's probably another disciple of the Lama on a quest for enlightenment.
You talk to the monk
To start a conversation, try to ASK the monk ABOUT something or TELL the monk ABOUT something.
Look around
You sit
(on the sofa)
You search under the seat
The sofa is already occupied by a monk.

You can't see any such thing.
You examine the furniture
A built-in sofa upholstered in a restful paisley moquette. The seat of the sofa is hinged to provide additional storage beneath. The sofa is closed, and there is a monk on top.
You open the sofa
(first removing the monk)
You put your arms around the monk and attempt to haul him off the sofa, but inspite of his small stature he seems to weigh a tonne. It is as though he is nailed to the spot. You don't even succeed in breaking his meditative trance.

You'd have to remove the monk from the lid first.
Look around
That you are standing outside the caravan of one of Shangri-La's permanent residents is evidenced by the fact that a tiny section of garden has been fenced off. This garden consists of a small patch of meticulously raked gravel, with, placed at harmonious intervals, two potted bonsai trees, three garden gnomes (all in the lotus position) and the inevitable plastic flamingo. The door to the caravan is open, revealing a curtain of colourful plastic ribbons that flutter in the breeze.

Paths lead west to the mystic mountain, northwest to the glacier and southwest to the camp entrance.
Go west
Here, at the foot of the mountain you are at last fully able to appreciate its immense size. A rough, twisting path becomes a narrow traverse that zig-zags its way up the mountainside, its summit obscured by mist.

To the west is a pleasant looking meadow, whilst to the east are a scattering of caravans. Far away to the north the Valley is blocked by a sheer wall of ice; an enormous glacier!
You examine the path
Here, at the foot of the mountain you are at last fully able to appreciate its immense size. A rough, twisting path becomes a narrow traverse that zig-zags its way up the mountainside, its summit obscured by mist.
Up
Here, at the peak of the mountain, perched beneath a snow-covered overhang, is a 1969 model Sprite Alpine caravan in a delapidated state of repair. Mystic sigils have been daubed across its rotting sides. Colourful prayer flags flap from ropes tied to the awning poles. Could it be that you have finally found the fabled Sanctum Sanctorum of the Dada Lama?

A narrow traverse takes you down to foot of the mountain.

A lowly acolyte stands guard outside the door to the caravan.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You ask acolyte about Dada
"His holiness the Dada Lama, Exalted Master of the Cerulean Mist, will be able to answer all your questions," says the acolyte dismissively, "I'm just a lowly acolyte, what would I know about that?"

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You examine the flags
On second glance, the "prayer flags" turn out to be the Dada Lama's laundry, attached to the ropes with clothes pegs. You try not to look too closely at the Guru's undergarments with their dried-in stains, but your eye can't help being drawn to a single yak's wool sock also pegged to the line. The thing is simply enormous.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You take the sock
You unpeg the yak's wool sock from the clothes line.

The acolyte sighs with frustration.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a clothes peg
a yak's wool sock

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You wear the peg
You place the clothes peg on your nose.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You ask the acolyte about the Yak
"His holiness the Dada Lama, Ascended Master of Mystic Power, will be able to answer all your questions," says the acolyte dismissively, "I'm just a lowly acolyte, what would I know about that?"

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You look in sock
You find nothing of interest.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
Wear sock
It's way too big for you.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a clothes peg (being worn)
a yak's wool sock

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You drop the sock
"Oh, that's right" says the acolyte, "just strew your worldy goods all over the landscape, why don't you? You have no respect for the sanctity of nature!

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
a clothes peg (being worn)

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You take the sock
Taken.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You examine the sock
This sock is so big you could fit it over your head. You can't imagine what kind of creature could have such an abominably big foot. What happened to other sock is a riddle that will probably never be solved.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You go to the west
The only directions you can take from here are in to the caravan or down a meandering path to the valley floor. In every other direction lie sheer drops or dangerous scree slopes.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
Go down
Here, at the foot of the mountain you are at last fully able to appreciate its immense size. A rough, twisting path becomes a narrow traverse that zig-zags its way up the mountainside, its summit obscured by mist.

To the west is a pleasant looking meadow, whilst to the east are a scattering of caravans. Far away to the north the Valley is blocked by a sheer wall of ice; an enormous glacier!
You enter the Shed
Clothes peg firmly in place, you step bravely into the yak shed.

The yak shed is a gloomy wooden structure of rickety construction. Enormous piles of dung take up most of the available floorspace; shafts of light from cracks in the ceiling illuminating thousands of buzzing flies.

A solitary yak stands in the middle of the shed, its shaggy pelt illuminated by a shaft of sunlight.
You look at the dung
The manufacture of dung is the one thing that yaks are really good at, apart that is from growing hair and smelling really bad.
You show the sock to the Yak
The yak is unimpressed.
You take all
yak: I don't suppose the yak would care for that.
enormous piles of dung: And what exactly would you do with armfuls of yak dung? Not be a hit with the ladies, for one.
flies: Try as you like, you cannot catch the flies with your bare hands.
Shave yak
A razor is a prerequisite to shaving.
You look at what you're carrying with you
You are carrying:
You search yak
a clothes peg (being worn)

You find nothing of interest.
You take off the clothes peg
You think better of removing the peg.
Describe the surroundings
The yak shed is a gloomy wooden structure of rickety construction. Enormous piles of dung take up most of the available floorspace; shafts of light from cracks in the ceiling illuminating thousands of buzzing flies.

A solitary yak stands in the middle of the shed, its shaggy pelt illuminated by a shaft of sunlight.
You eat yak
(first taking the yak)
I don't suppose the yak would care for that.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a yak's wool sock
a clothes peg (being worn)
You ask yak about the monk
Bovines are not known for their scintilating repartee. This beast, being an unexceptional example of her breed, merely responds to your enquiry with a quizzical look.
Up
Here, at the peak of the mountain, perched beneath a snow-covered overhang, is a 1969 model Sprite Alpine caravan in a delapidated state of repair. Mystic sigils have been daubed across its rotting sides. Colourful prayer flags flap from ropes tied to the awning poles. Could it be that you have finally found the fabled Sanctum Sanctorum of the Dada Lama?

A narrow traverse takes you down to foot of the mountain.

A lowly acolyte stands guard outside the door to the caravan.

"You again!" says the Acolyte. "What do you want now?"

The acolyte sighs with frustration.
You put the sock on the line
Putting things on the clothes line would achieve nothing.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You ask Acolyte about the chopsticks
"Get your own!" snaps the acolyte..

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
Wear sock
It's way too big for you.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You remove the peg
You take off the clothes peg.

The acolyte sighs with frustration.
You go to the south
The only directions you can take from here are in to the caravan or down a meandering path to the valley floor. In every other direction lie sheer drops or dangerous scree slopes.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You drop all
yak's wool sock: Dropped.

clothes peg: Dropped.
Up
Here, at the peak of the mountain, perched beneath a snow-covered overhang, is a 1969 model Sprite Alpine caravan in a delapidated state of repair. Mystic sigils have been daubed across its rotting sides. Colourful prayer flags flap from ropes tied to the awning poles. Could it be that you have finally found the fabled Sanctum Sanctorum of the Dada Lama?

A narrow traverse takes you down to foot of the mountain.

A lowly acolyte stands guard outside the door to the caravan.

The acolyte sighs with frustration.
Go inside
After your long and arduous journey it's hard not to be disappointed by the famous Sanctum Sanctorum of his Holiness the Dada Lama. Sure, incense burners and mandalas abound, but there's no getting away from the fact that this is nothing more than a shabby old trailer home with seating that folds up to provide additional storage.

His holiness the Dada Lama, Exalted Master of Excelling Works, sits in the middle of a bubbling hot-tub surrounded by topless beauties.

The brunette massages the old man's scalp whilst the blonde lovingly soaps his scanty beard.

"I have been expecting you, oh faithful disciple!" says the Dada Lama as you enter.

"You don't look like you were expecting anyone," you reply, glancing at the blonde as she ladles hot water over his shiny dome.

"Do not be deceived by appearances, my son." says the Lama, "In Shangri-La we live a life of simple austerity. This hot tub is merely an illusion. Candy and Mitzi here are neophytes who, like yourself, are taking their first faltering steps on the path to enlightenment. You seek the ancient wisdom of the exalted masters, yes?"

"Something like that," you reply.

"Well wisdom must be earned. Take this jar of pickled eggs. If you can get the lid off, enlightenment will be yours. Now, go!"
You examine eggs
A jar of eggs, pickled in vinegar. The jar is currently tightly closed.
You examine Dada Lama
Small, bald and wrinkled as last night's bedsheets, the Dada Lama is either very old or he's been in that hot tub too long.
You ask Lama about yak
"What are you doing here still?" says the Lama, "Have I not given you clear instructions? Now, go!"
You read the jar
A jar of eggs, pickled in vinegar. The jar is currently tightly closed.

"What are you doing here still?" snaps the Lama. "Did I not give you clear instructions? Now, go!"
Leave
Here, at the peak of the mountain, perched beneath a snow-covered overhang, is a 1969 model Sprite Alpine caravan in a delapidated state of repair. Mystic sigils have been daubed across its rotting sides. Colourful prayer flags flap from ropes tied to the awning poles. Could it be that you have finally found the fabled Sanctum Sanctorum of the Dada Lama?

A narrow traverse takes you down to foot of the mountain.

A lowly acolyte stands guard outside the door to the caravan.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You take the chopsticks
You try to grab the chopsticks from the acolyte's hands, but his highly trained reflexes are just too fast for you.

"Get your own!" he admonishes.

The acolyte sighs with frustration.
You show the jar to Acolyte
The acolyte is unimpressed.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You take all
acolyte: I don't suppose the acolyte would care for that.
pair of chopsticks: You try to grab the chopsticks from the acolyte's hands, but his highly trained reflexes are just too fast for you.

"Get your own!" he admonishes.
overhang: That's hardly portable.
clothes line: That's hardly portable.
Lama's caravan: That's hardly portable.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You clap one hand
You attempt to clap with one hand, waving it through the air ineffectually.

"It's not as easy as it sounds, is it?" says the acolyte.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
Down
Here, at the foot of the mountain you are at last fully able to appreciate its immense size. A rough, twisting path becomes a narrow traverse that zig-zags its way up the mountainside, its summit obscured by mist.

To the west is a pleasant looking meadow, whilst to the east are a scattering of caravans. Far away to the north the Valley is blocked by a sheer wall of ice; an enormous glacier!

You can see a clothes peg and a yak's wool sock here.
You take all
clothes peg: Taken.

yak's wool sock: Taken.

mountain: That's hardly portable.
Up
Here, at the peak of the mountain, perched beneath a snow-covered overhang, is a 1969 model Sprite Alpine caravan in a delapidated state of repair. Mystic sigils have been daubed across its rotting sides. Colourful prayer flags flap from ropes tied to the awning poles. Could it be that you have finally found the fabled Sanctum Sanctorum of the Dada Lama?

A narrow traverse takes you down to foot of the mountain.

A lowly acolyte stands guard outside the door to the caravan.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You examine the overhang
It really is an avalanche waiting to happen. Any loud noise could set it off.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
Clap
You attempt to clap with one hand, waving it through the air ineffectually.

"It's not as easy as it sounds, is it?" says the acolyte.

The acolyte sighs with frustration.
You jump
You jump on the spot, fruitlessly.

The acolyte sighs with frustration.
You open the jar
The acolyte has better things to do.

The acolyte sighs with frustration.
You give the jar to Acolyte
For a moment you consider handing over the jar of pickled eggs (closed), but the chances are you'd never see it again.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You open the jar with the sock
That doesn't seem to be something you can unlock.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a yak's wool sock
a clothes peg
a jar of pickled eggs (closed)

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You put the sock on the jar
Putting things on the jar of pickled eggs (closed) would achieve nothing.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You throw the jar at the overhang
Futile.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You look at the overhang
It really is an avalanche waiting to happen. Any loud noise could set it off.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
a yak's wool sock
a clothes peg
a jar of pickled eggs (closed)

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You drop all
yak's wool sock: Dropped.

clothes peg: Dropped.

jar of pickled eggs (closed): Dropped.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You check your inventory
You are carrying nothing.

The acolyte sighs with frustration.
Clap acolyte's hand
After your long and arduous journey it's hard not to be disappointed by the famous Sanctum Sanctorum of his Holiness the Dada Lama. Sure, incense burners and mandalas abound, but there's no getting away from the fact that this is nothing more than a shabby old trailer home with seating that folds up to provide additional storage.

His holiness the Dada Lama, Ascended Master of the Greater Mysteries, sits in the middle of a bubbling hot-tub surrounded by topless beauties.

The brunette massages the old man's scalp whilst the blonde lovingly soaps his scanty beard.

"So, my son, you have returned!" says Lama. "Have you completed the task I set you?"

You can't see any such thing.
You open the couch
You open the seat, revealing a hairdryer.

You can't see any such thing.
You take the dryer
Taken.

"Hey!" says Mitzy, "Put that back!"
You take the hairdryer
You already have that.
You go outside
Here, at the peak of the mountain, perched beneath a snow-covered overhang, is a 1969 model Sprite Alpine caravan in a delapidated state of repair. Mystic sigils have been daubed across its rotting sides. Colourful prayer flags flap from ropes tied to the awning poles. Could it be that you have finally found the fabled Sanctum Sanctorum of the Dada Lama?

A narrow traverse takes you down to foot of the mountain.

A lowly acolyte stands guard outside the door to the caravan.

You can also see a jar of pickled eggs (closed), a clothes peg and a yak's wool sock here.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You take all
jar of pickled eggs (closed): Taken.

clothes peg: Taken.

yak's wool sock: Taken.

acolyte: I don't suppose the acolyte would care for that.
pair of chopsticks: You try to grab the chopsticks from the acolyte's hands, but his highly trained reflexes are just too fast for you.

"Get your own!" he admonishes.
overhang: That's hardly portable.
clothes line: That's hardly portable.
Lama's caravan: That's hardly portable.

The acolyte sighs with frustration.
You examine the hairdryer
Quite what the Dada Lama wants with a hairdryer is beyond you - the man is as bald as a coot. Perhaps it belongs to one of his "disciples".

The hairdryer bears the legend "FOHAT 400 DELUXE". It appears to be powered by cosmic electricity, which is handy as there doesn't seem to be anywhere to plug it in.

The hairdryer is currently switched off.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You turn on the dryer
You switch the hairdryer on.
Melt ice
After many hours of laborious work, you succeed in melting a hole in the glacier large enough to climb into. Wreaths of icy vapour exude from the hole.

After many hours of laborious work, you succeed in melting a hole in the glacier large enough to climb into. Wreaths of icy vapour exude from the hole.
Go inside
A vast, cathedral-like cavern bathed in an eerie blue glow. Through the walls you can make out the shapes of objects entombed in the ice; a woolly mammoth, a Viking longboat with full complement of oarsmen, and a 1948 Morris Minor two-door saloon. The only exit is back out through the hole you made with the hairdryer.

A hole in the ice, just big enough to crawl through, leads  out into the sunshine.

Slumped in the middle of the cavern is an extraordinary figure. The abominable snowman, once thought to be a myth, now a hulking four hundred pound fact with muscles like marshmallows! The yeti seems to thawing; his face and hands are a healthy pink but his gigantic feet are still blue with cold.
You examine the snowman
The yeti stands a few feet away, eyeing you amusedly.

The abominable snowman, once thought to be a myth, now a hulking four hundred pound fact with muscles like marshmallows and incredibly large, incredibly cold feet.

The yeti stomps off towards Moraine.
Leave
You are standing at the foot of the glacier, a sheer wall of ice that would dwarf the tallest skyscraper. For thousands of years it has followed this valley like the world's most doggedly determined Slush Puppie. Scattered around are immense boulders deposited here by the glacier during its inexorable retreat. Who knows what else might have been swept up in this monstrous river of ice?

To the south the holy mountain broods over the valley like a thundercloud. Narrow trails lead southeast and southwest.

A hole in the ice, just big enough to crawl through, leads  into the depths of the glacier.

Slumped in the middle of the cavern is an extraordinary figure. The abominable snowman, once thought to be a myth, now a hulking four hundred pound fact with muscles like marshmallows! The yeti seems to thawing; his face and hands are a healthy pink but his gigantic feet are still blue with cold.

The yeti stomps off towards Meadow.
You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
Go southwest
Here, in the foothills of the mountains is a meadow of lush grass, strewn with boulders and dotted with tall wild flowers that frug and shimmy in the breeze. A pastoral idyll in other words, marred only by the fact that someone has erected a barn smack in the middle of it. A windowless wooden box, this barn, of no great architectural merit. Daubed above the entrance are the words "Yak Shed".

To the east, a rugged path leads down into the valley whilst other, more ordinally inclined paths lead northeast and southeast.

Slumped in the middle of the cavern is an extraordinary figure. The abominable snowman, once thought to be a myth, now a hulking four hundred pound fact with muscles like marshmallows! The yeti seems to thawing; his face and hands are a healthy pink but his gigantic feet are still blue with cold.

The yeti stomps off towards Shangri-La.
You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
Go north
You make no progress in that direction. However, there are rugged paths leading east towards the Mystic Mountain, northeast towards the glacier, and southeast to the pass where you first entered the valley. You could also, if you felt so inclined, try entering the Yak Shed.

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
You go southeast
You weren't sure what to expect from the mystic valley of Shangri-La. You'd heard all the stories of course -- a land of mystery and matchless beauty where life is lived in tranquil wonder, beyond the grasp of a doomed world! That's what it said in the brochure, anyway...

What you weren't expecting was a caravan park. But there's no mistaking the large sign over the entrance: "Shangri-La Caravan Park welcomes the pure of soul -- 200 Spaces Available." Most of the spaces are empty.

Directly ahead is perhaps the loveliest mountain you have ever seen; an almost perfect cone of snow, it is as though a small child had dropped a Cornetto in the middle of the valley. A broad path leads north to the mountain, and on either side are narrow trails leading northeast and northwest.

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
Go north
Here, at the foot of the mountain you are at last fully able to appreciate its immense size. A rough, twisting path becomes a narrow traverse that zig-zags its way up the mountainside, its summit obscured by mist.

To the west is a pleasant looking meadow, whilst to the east are a scattering of caravans. Far away to the north the Valley is blocked by a sheer wall of ice; an enormous glacier!

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
You listen
You hear nothing unexpected.

The yeti arrives from Moraine, the ground trembling under his massive feet.
You give the jar to yeti
The yeti is in some kind of hypothermic coma, and doesn't react to the
Up
jar of pickled eggs (closed).

The yeti stomps off towards Shangri-La.
You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...

You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.
Wait
Time passes.

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
Wait
Time passes.

The yeti arrives from Meadow, the ground trembling under his massive feet.
You give the sock to yeti
The yeti is in some kind of hypothermic coma, and doesn't react to the yak's wool sock.

The yeti stomps off towards Plot 108.
You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
You put the sock on yeti
One sock is not much use to anybody.

The yeti stomps off towards Plot 108.
You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
You knit the sock
You would need a pair of knitting needles for that, or something sufficiently similar.

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
You go north
You are standing at the foot of the glacier, a sheer wall of ice that would dwarf the tallest skyscraper. For thousands of years it has followed this valley like the world's most doggedly determined Slush Puppie. Scattered around are immense boulders deposited here by the glacier during its inexorable retreat. Who knows what else might have been swept up in this monstrous river of ice?

To the south the holy mountain broods over the valley like a thundercloud. Narrow trails lead southeast and southwest.

A hole in the ice, just big enough to crawl through, leads  into the depths of the glacier.

The yeti arrives from Meadow, hurling aside any giant boulders that stand in his path.
You enter
A vast, cathedral-like cavern bathed in an eerie blue glow. Through the walls you can make out the shapes of objects entombed in the ice; a woolly mammoth, a Viking longboat with full complement of oarsmen, and a 1948 Morris Minor two-door saloon. The only exit is back out through the hole you made with the hairdryer.

A hole in the ice, just big enough to crawl through, leads  out into the sunshine.
You get all
It's beyond your help unfortunately.

hole in the ice: That's fixed in place.
woolly mammoth: It's beyond your help unfortunately.
viking longboat: It's beyond your help unfortunately.
1948 Morris Minor two-door saloon: It's beyond your help unfortunately.
You look at the mammoth
It's beyond your help unfortunately.
You look at what you're carrying with you
You are carrying:
a yak's wool sock
a clothes peg
a jar of pickled eggs (closed)
a hairdryer
Melt the ice with the hairdryer
The hole in the ice seems to have a melting point higher than the temperature of the air expelled by the hairdryer.
Leave
You are standing at the foot of the glacier, a sheer wall of ice that would dwarf the tallest skyscraper. For thousands of years it has followed this valley like the world's most doggedly determined Slush Puppie. Scattered around are immense boulders deposited here by the glacier during its inexorable retreat. Who knows what else might have been swept up in this monstrous river of ice?

To the south the holy mountain broods over the valley like a thundercloud. Narrow trails lead southeast and southwest.

A hole in the ice, just big enough to crawl through, leads  into the depths of the glacier.

Slumped in the middle of the cavern is an extraordinary figure. The abominable snowman, once thought to be a myth, now a hulking four hundred pound fact with muscles like marshmallows! The yeti seems to thawing; his face and hands are a healthy pink but his gigantic feet are still blue with cold.
You follow you
The yeti stands a few feet away, eyeing you amusedly.

There is no reply.
You tell Acolyte about yeti
This provokes no reaction.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You turn on the dryer
Nothing happens.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You turn off the dryer
You switch the hairdryer off.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You look at the overhang
It really is an avalanche waiting to happen. Any loud noise could set it off.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
Sing
You hum a little ditty.

The acolyte sighs with frustration.
You examine the flags
On second glance, the "prayer flags" turn out to be the Dada Lama's laundry, attached to the ropes with clothes pegs. You try not to look too closely at the Guru's undergarments with their dried-in stains.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You examine the sigils
You recognise among them the lamen of the Golden Dawn office of Kerux, the ouroboros; ancient emblem of eternity, the astrological glyph of the planet Neptune, the Secret Seal of Solomon, the mystical symbol Aum in Tibetan script, and The Golden Arches; famous symbol of McDonald's restaurants.

The acolyte sighs with frustration.
You turn on the dryer
Nothing happens.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You throw the dryer at the overhang
Futile.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
Go downwards
Here, at the foot of the mountain you are at last fully able to appreciate its immense size. A rough, twisting path becomes a narrow traverse that zig-zags its way up the mountainside, its summit obscured by mist.

To the west is a pleasant looking meadow, whilst to the east are a scattering of caravans. Far away to the north the Valley is blocked by a sheer wall of ice; an enormous glacier!

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
Wait
Time passes.

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
Go west
Here, in the foothills of the mountains is a meadow of lush grass, strewn with boulders and dotted with tall wild flowers that frug and shimmy in the breeze. A pastoral idyll in other words, marred only by the fact that someone has erected a barn smack in the middle of it. A windowless wooden box, this barn, of no great architectural merit. Daubed above the entrance are the words "Yak Shed".

To the east, a rugged path leads down into the valley whilst other, more ordinally inclined paths lead northeast and southeast.

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
You go south
You weren't sure what to expect from the mystic valley of Shangri-La. You'd heard all the stories of course -- a land of mystery and matchless beauty where life is lived in tranquil wonder, beyond the grasp of a doomed world! That's what it said in the brochure, anyway...

What you weren't expecting was a caravan park. But there's no mistaking the large sign over the entrance: "Shangri-La Caravan Park welcomes the pure of soul -- 200 Spaces Available." Most of the spaces are empty.

Directly ahead is perhaps the loveliest mountain you have ever seen; an almost perfect cone of snow, it is as though a small child had dropped a Cornetto in the middle of the valley. A broad path leads north to the mountain, and on either side are narrow trails leading northeast and northwest.
You go northeast
That you are standing outside the caravan of one of Shangri-La's permanent residents is evidenced by the fact that a tiny section of garden has been fenced off. This garden consists of a small patch of meticulously raked gravel, with, placed at harmonious intervals, two potted bonsai trees, three garden gnomes (all in the lotus position) and the inevitable plastic flamingo. The door to the caravan is open, revealing a curtain of colourful plastic ribbons that flutter in the breeze.

Paths lead west to the mystic mountain, northwest to the glacier and southwest to the camp entrance.

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
You show the eggs to yeti
The yeti is unimpressed.
You ask yeti about Lama
The yeti stands a few feet away, eyeing you amusedly.

The yeti is in some kind of hypothermic coma, which makes him a rather limited conversationalist.
Go southwest
Here, in the foothills of the mountains is a meadow of lush grass, strewn with boulders and dotted with tall wild flowers that frug and shimmy in the breeze. A pastoral idyll in other words, marred only by the fact that someone has erected a barn smack in the middle of it. A windowless wooden box, this barn, of no great architectural merit. Daubed above the entrance are the words "Yak Shed".

To the east, a rugged path leads down into the valley whilst other, more ordinally inclined paths lead northeast and southeast.

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
You go east
Here, at the foot of the mountain you are at last fully able to appreciate its immense size. A rough, twisting path becomes a narrow traverse that zig-zags its way up the mountainside, its summit obscured by mist.

To the west is a pleasant looking meadow, whilst to the east are a scattering of caravans. Far away to the north the Valley is blocked by a sheer wall of ice; an enormous glacier!

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
Up
Here, at the peak of the mountain, perched beneath a snow-covered overhang, is a 1969 model Sprite Alpine caravan in a delapidated state of repair. Mystic sigils have been daubed across its rotting sides. Colourful prayer flags flap from ropes tied to the awning poles. Could it be that you have finally found the fabled Sanctum Sanctorum of the Dada Lama?

A narrow traverse takes you down to foot of the mountain.

A lowly acolyte stands guard outside the door to the caravan.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You ask Acolyte about yeti
"His holiness the Dada Lama, Exalted Master of the Celestial Dragon, will be able to answer all your questions," says the acolyte dismissively, "I'm just a lowly acolyte, what would I know about that?"

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You ask Acolyte about the clapping
"Oh my god!" says the acolyte suddenly dropping to his knees, "Do you know the answer? Tell me! For the love of Buddha, tell me! What is the sound of one hand clapping?" He clutches your lapels and drags himself up until you are face to face. "Please! You got to help me! He's making me do all his laundry until I work it out! Have you seen the state of those longjohns?".

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You drop all
yak's wool sock: Dropped.

clothes peg: Dropped.

jar of pickled eggs (closed): Dropped.

hairdryer: Dropped.

The acolyte sighs with frustration.
You hit Acolyte
Violence isn't the answer to this one.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You tell Acolyte about the silence
This provokes no reaction.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You tell Acolyte about one hand clapping
You'd like to put the little guy out of his misery, but you have no more of an idea than he does. Perhaps you should ask the Lama?

The acolyte sighs with frustration.
Go inside
After your long and arduous journey it's hard not to be disappointed by the famous Sanctum Sanctorum of his Holiness the Dada Lama. Sure, incense burners and mandalas abound, but there's no getting away from the fact that this is nothing more than a shabby old trailer home with seating that folds up to provide additional storage.

His holiness the Dada Lama, Ascended Master of the August Centre of the Heavens, sits in the middle of a bubbling hot-tub surrounded by topless beauties.

The brunette massages the old man's scalp whilst the blonde lovingly soaps his scanty beard.
You ask Lama about yeti
"Tell me, oh Exalted Master, is there really such a thing as the abominable snowman?" you ask.

"It is possible," says the Lama, stroking his scanty beard, "that some of them may have survived the great ice age.".
You ask Dada about one hand clapping
(the Dada Lama about that)
"Oh great Lama," you say, rather self consciously, "tell me, what is the sound of one hand clapping?"

The Lama gives Mitzi a conspiritorial wink before beckoning you closer with his finger. Cautiously you lean in to listen to him.

"Closer, closer!" says the Lama. Slightly suspicious now, you lean in further with your left ear turned towards him.

"Closer!" whispers the Lama, and by now it's a struggle to avoid falling into the hot tub, but somehow you manage. You can feel the Exalted Master's hot, eggy breath in your earhole.

And then suddenly he claps you on the ear with one hand. It's a sound you won't forget in a hurry. Over the ringing in your ear you can hear the ringing of Candy and Mitzi's laughter.
You ask Dada about the monk
(the Dada Lama about that)
"What are you doing here still?" says the Lama, "Have I not given you clear instructions? Now, go!"
Go outside
Here, at the peak of the mountain, perched beneath a snow-covered overhang, is a 1969 model Sprite Alpine caravan in a delapidated state of repair. Mystic sigils have been daubed across its rotting sides. Colourful prayer flags flap from ropes tied to the awning poles. Could it be that you have finally found the fabled Sanctum Sanctorum of the Dada Lama?

A narrow traverse takes you down to foot of the mountain.

A lowly acolyte stands guard outside the door to the caravan.

You can also see a hairdryer, a jar of pickled eggs (closed), a clothes peg and a yak's wool sock here.

The acolyte attempts to clap with one hand, cupping the other hand over his ear the better to hear the sound it makes.
You take all
hairdryer: Taken.

jar of pickled eggs (closed): Taken.

clothes peg: Taken.

yak's wool sock: Taken.

acolyte: I don't suppose the acolyte would care for that.
pair of chopsticks: You try to grab the chopsticks from the acolyte's hands, but his highly trained reflexes are just too fast for you.

"Get your own!" he admonishes.
overhang: That's hardly portable.
clothes line: That's hardly portable.
Lama's caravan: That's hardly portable.

The acolyte sighs with frustration.
You tell Acolyte about one hand clapping
It's a little hard to explain. Perhaps a demonstration would be in order?

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
You hit Acolyte
Violence isn't the answer to this one.

The acolyte attempts to catch a passing fly with his chopsticks. They say that a man who can catch a fly with chopsticks can do anything.
Clap acolyte
Just CLAP will suffice.
Clap
With one hand you clap the acolyte about the face with a sound that echoes throughout the valley like thunder. After a moment the look of shock on the acolyte's face is replaced with a look of beatific understanding.
Clap
A moment later there is a rumble from the overhang above his head, and he is buried under twenty tonnes of snow.

You give yourself a round of applause. With one hand, naturally.
You look at your surroundings
Here, at the peak of the mountain, perched beneath a snow-covered overhang, is a 1969 model Sprite Alpine caravan in a delapidated state of repair. Mystic sigils have been daubed across its rotting sides. Colourful prayer flags flap from ropes tied to the awning poles. Could it be that you have finally found the fabled Sanctum Sanctorum of the Dada Lama?

A narrow traverse takes you down to foot of the mountain.

You can see a pile of snow here.
You take the snow
That's fixed in place.
You turn on the dryer
That's already on.
Melt snow
All the cosmic electricity is used up.
You look at the pile
A perfect, pristine pile of pure, pearly-white snow. You try to forget about the poor little dude buried underneath it. Ah, what the heck. He had it coming. A pair of chopsticks are sticking out of the top of the pile.
Go downwards
Here, at the foot of the mountain you are at last fully able to appreciate its immense size. A rough, twisting path becomes a narrow traverse that zig-zags its way up the mountainside, its summit obscured by mist.

To the west is a pleasant looking meadow, whilst to the east are a scattering of caravans. Far away to the north the Valley is blocked by a sheer wall of ice; an enormous glacier!

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
Go west
Here, in the foothills of the mountains is a meadow of lush grass, strewn with boulders and dotted with tall wild flowers that frug and shimmy in the breeze. A pastoral idyll in other words, marred only by the fact that someone has erected a barn smack in the middle of it. A windowless wooden box, this barn, of no great architectural merit. Daubed above the entrance are the words "Yak Shed".

To the east, a rugged path leads down into the valley whilst other, more ordinally inclined paths lead northeast and southeast.

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
You wear the peg
You place the clothes peg on your nose.

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
You enter
Clothes peg firmly in place, you step bravely into the yak shed.

The yak shed is a gloomy wooden structure of rickety construction. Enormous piles of dung take up most of the available floorspace; shafts of light from cracks in the ceiling illuminating thousands of buzzing flies.

A solitary yak stands in the middle of the shed, its shaggy pelt illuminated by a shaft of sunlight.
You catch the fly with the chopsticks
After many, many hours of patient practice, you finally succeed in catching a fly with a pair of chopsticks. By this time of course, you have also succeeded in acquiring a sore nose (from the clothes peg), a headache (from working in near total darkness) and a severe case of repetitive strain injury of the wrist. They say a man who can catch a fly with a pair of chopsticks can do anything, but oddly enough you don't feel like doing anything at the moment.

The fly buzzes angrily.
Examine fly
Here, in the foothills of the mountains is a meadow of lush grass, strewn with boulders and dotted with tall wild flowers that frug and shimmy in the breeze. A pastoral idyll in other words, marred only by the fact that someone has erected a barn smack in the middle of it. A windowless wooden box, this barn, of no great architectural merit. Daubed above the entrance are the words "Yak Shed".

To the east, a rugged path leads down into the valley whilst other, more ordinally inclined paths lead northeast and southeast.

The fly buzzes angrily.

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...

A large, bad tempered bluebottle.

The fly buzzes angrily.

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
You go east
Here, at the foot of the mountain you are at last fully able to appreciate its immense size. A rough, twisting path becomes a narrow traverse that zig-zags its way up the mountainside, its summit obscured by mist.

To the west is a pleasant looking meadow, whilst to the east are a scattering of caravans. Far away to the north the Valley is blocked by a sheer wall of ice; an enormous glacier!

The fly buzzes angrily.

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
Go east
That you are standing outside the caravan of one of Shangri-La's permanent residents is evidenced by the fact that a tiny section of garden has been fenced off. This garden consists of a small patch of meticulously raked gravel, with, placed at harmonious intervals, two potted bonsai trees, three garden gnomes (all in the lotus position) and the inevitable plastic flamingo. The door to the caravan is open, revealing a curtain of colourful plastic ribbons that flutter in the breeze.

Paths lead west to the mystic mountain, northwest to the glacier and southwest to the camp entrance.

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
Go inside
The inside of this tiny caravan is completely bare as befits a monk's cell. Only the fitted furniture remains, and presumably its owner's few possessions are secreted away in the handy under-seat storage areas. The only other feature is the colourful ribbon curtain through which you entered.

Sat cross-legged on the built in sofa is a tiny monk with a disproportionately large shaven head. He appears to be deep in mediation.

The fly buzzes angrily.
You drop the fly
You release the fly. After a moment or two of aimless buzzing around it alights upon the vast dome of the monk's shaven head. Like a miniature Buzz Aldrin it begins to explore this strange new world on its six tiny, featherlight feet. Around and around it goes, with a lack of purpose you find almost admirable. You can only imagine the agonies the poor monk must be suffering.

Eventually the little man can stand it no more. With a yowl like a wounded animal he charges from the room, swatting fruitlessly at his scalp with both hands, months and months of patient meditation down the pan. If he'd had any hair, he'd be tearing it out right now.
You open the sofa
You open the sofa, revealing a disposable razor.
You take the razor
Taken.
You wear the peg
You're already wearing that!

You hear the yeti sounding his barbaric YAWP across the roof of the world...
You enter
Clothes peg firmly in place, you step bravely into the yak shed.

The yak shed is a gloomy wooden structure of rickety construction. Enormous piles of dung take up most of the available floorspace; shafts of light from cracks in the ceiling illuminating thousands of buzzing flies.

A solitary yak stands in the middle of the shed, its shaggy pelt illuminated by a shaft of sunlight.
Shave yak
It takes you three days of painstaking work to denude the yak of every last hair, during which time you subsist on the fleas, ticks and lice that infest the animal. Finally you stand back and admire your handiwork. It's a pretty scrawny looking beast without its wool.
You knit the sock
Knit one, pearl one... Granny taught you well. After just three months of patient work, and four hundred and eighty-three dropped stitches, you produce a sock that more or less exactly resembles the other one.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a pair of yak's wool socks
a disposable razor
a pair of chopsticks
a clothes peg (being worn)
a jar of pickled eggs (closed)
a hairdryer
You give socks to yeti
Gingerly you tug the socks over the yeti's enormous tootsies, and having lit the blue touchpaper, stand back. After a few moments, his eyelids flicker. A few moments after that, his eyes flick open, he jumps to his feet, does a little dance and gives you big, hairy, smelly bear-hug before crashing out into the open air.
You look at yeti
The yeti stands a few feet away, eyeing you amusedly.

The abominable snowman, once thought to be a myth, now a hulking four hundred pound fact with muscles like marshmallows and incredibly large, incredibly cold feet.
You give the jar to yeti
"Say, you couldn't lend me a paw with this jar, could you, man?" you say, "It's really been bugging me."

The yeti gives you a big, yellow, snaggle-toothed grin. He takes the jar in his huge gnarly hands, pops off the lid like it was nothing, and hands it back to you lidless. Far out.
You examine jar
A jar of eggs, pickled in vinegar. The jar is currently open.
You eat the eggs
You decide the pickled eggs are best left alone.
You enter
After your long and arduous journey it's hard not to be disappointed by the famous Sanctum Sanctorum of his Holiness the Dada Lama. Sure, incense burners and mandalas abound, but there's no getting away from the fact that this is nothing more than a shabby old trailer home with seating that folds up to provide additional storage.

His holiness the Dada Lama, Exalted Master of the Slanting Moon, sits in the middle of a bubbling hot-tub surrounded by topless beauties.

The brunette massages the old man's scalp whilst the blonde lovingly soaps his scanty beard.
You give the jar to Dada
(the Dada Lama)
"I have opened your jar of pickled eggs, oh exalted master," you say, holding out the item in question.

"Well, and what have you learned?" replies the ancient one.

"Well," you say, "I had to do a load of stuff, and in order to do that I first had to do a load of other stuff, melt a glacier, knit a sock, shave a yak..."

"That's it!" says the Lama, splashing excitedly, "in order to do stuff, you had to do other stuff, and on and on. That is life. Life is yak shaving!"

"And I guess," you say, stroking your beard thoughtfully, "that as long as you get a few kicks and have a few giggles along the way, it's okay."

"Behold!" cries the Lama, "enlightenment, illumination! I'm afraid I can't offer you a cigar or a coconut, but please, help yourself to a pickled egg."

"Thanks, I'll pass."

"Please yourself." says the Lama.

"I will," you say, grinning. "I will."