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Never say die-t . . .

To your surprise, the book that hit you is a glossy-covered diet book ... one of those titles with a lot of hyphens in it. You almost turn away, then stop. Wait a fat-bellied minute here. What's that book doing in this castle? Dropping to your knees to get around your growing midsection, you scoop up the shiny book and start flipping through it. Sure enough, there's a piece of paper inside, with the same writing on it that you saw on the window:

O Silence is golden, ye mortals do say,
And 't'is all the gold ye'll be findin' this way.
Of shelves and of books ye may find here a score,
But thy belly'll swell 'til it spreads 'cross the floor.

With a growl, you sieze the paper in your chubby paws, ready to rip it to pieces. Just as the paper begins to crease, though, more words appear:

'Tis pity I'll take
On yon billowing paunch,
And a clue I will give
To the gold that will staunch
The swelling of flesh and
The growing of fat ...
But there's a condition
I'm addin' t'that!

With a cold anger, you read on:

A clue I will grant ye,
But take all good heed;
The growth of thy flesh
Shall increase with good speed!
If take ye my clue,
Ye must soon find my gold,
Else the weight of thy gut
May no strength e'er uphold.

"I wish you'd keep it short", you snarl at the paper, only to feel a sharp blow to the back of your head. The paper continues:

Good poetry may not be rushed,
So let that whining plaint be hushed.

Now, want ye my clue, pup,
T' breaking my spell?
Do give me thine answer,
And answer me well.

On the one paw, you could really use a hint about now ... at this point, you don't even know if it's inside or outside the castle! On the other paw, having your growth increase "a good speed" could keep you from getting at it once you find it ... you don't think you could dig up a pot of gold if you got too fat to walk!

What should you do?


Written by Wanderer

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