I’ve never seen someone made so upset by the sight of a chocobo. I’d assume it had something to do with being in a dungeon, traditionally kind of upsetting locations, but these things don’t seem at all worried:
(Although they appear to not have been tossed in the dungeon for their crimes yet.) People must just really hate being around them yella boids. For good reason, I’m certain. For one thing, the title “Chocobos Dungeon” implies both that the bird itself is the proprietor of the dungeon and also that it has an unfortunate habit of misplacing apostrophes, neither especially charming character traits. For shame, bird!


Ooh, we mustn’t foul the air for the PINE CONE, should we? Argo, where do they come from?

Note that my last was a rhetorical question; I know precisely where pine cones come from and am presently working on a solution.

As long as we’re in here, I will transition into a related topic.
You can learn a lot about parents by what they say to their kids in public bath-rooms. At the Clinton Crossing boredom village outside semi-mall restroom:

“Aw Cameron, ya pooped yaself. Now ya don’t get a snowboard!”
I’ve seen people use snow-boards, and I never got the impression that doing so was something easier than restraining one’s bowel material.

But then again, one Mr. S. Hedgehog was busting mad beef off bodacious gnarlburgers¹ long before the bulk of his supporting cast could no longer be contained by the intestine of creativity so perhaps there is more reason behind this punishment than I once was willing to consider.

It well complements another wisdom nougat overheard in the restroom vicinity of Crystal Mall’s food area some years ago:
“if you don’t pee on your hands, you don’t have to wash ’em.”
Alas, I recorded that so long ago I no longer recall if a child was present or if this was even being said to an acquaintance. Some people, when they learn the secrets to life, feel guilt whenever they see anybody who is unenlightened. But save your words, wise friend. Only when they come to the conclusion themselves can they truly understand. By that same token pretend I didn’t just say that to you.

So the words, then, are true, but I think it may be necessary to void the waiver if you touch what the urine came out of or the protective casing your liberated spigot was waiting unventilated in for the past hour(s) or so. Or even, should the occasion arise, the door. Also, be aware that regardless of voiding, the hand wash pass is not followed by an “ever.” At some point you will have to endure the unspeakable, endless agony of soap and water upon your phalanx covers again. It cannot be helped. We’re still working on that. Between this and pine cones, we’ll be busy for rather a long while. It is unfortunate they both chose to invade our precious lavatories at the same time.

¹I forgot

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Other news:

It seems cruel to exlude robots using their own traditional forms of creative expression. A thousand shames upon you, Anne-doray. May all your adversaries oppose you with discarded meats! (on plates)