“Awright! A quest! This is great, Dick! We don’t even have to go anywhere! We can just rack up EXP right here! And get some juicy rewards. Life doesn’t get much better than this?”

  “Where the fuck is my adblocker?” Dick replied in an irritated voice, thumbing through his status screens.

  “Uh, Dick? That’s not an ad. That’s a quest.”

  “It pops up. It tells me to do something. It’s an ad. Say, Greg? Your snazzy shop got an ad blocker, by any chance?”

  “No, Dick. I’m afraid it does not.”

  “Well, sheeit. AdBlock Plus was the best thing Snoop Dogg ever invented. How do people even live without that?”

  “Dick? I feel like I’m going to regret asking, but… what do you plan to do?”

  “What else? I’m going to that dungeon.”

  Greg sighed. “Well, those people in town are probably all gonna die, but meh. Whatever.”

  The two set off, bound for the generic dungeon from chapter four.

  “So, who they got locked up down there?”

  “Uh, Dick? Just to make sure… a dungeon isn’t a jail.”

  “Well, obviously. They aren’t even called the same thing!”

  “Okay good, just checking—”

  “A dungeon’s a backward-ass jail. It’s what they used to call them back in the mid evil ages.”

  “Uh, you mean medieval? But um, that’s not right, either, Dick. I told you before, a dungeon is a place monsters spawn.”

  “Well yeah. Like criminals. And the French.”

  “I’m afraid it’s just beasts. Like that [Boarse], but much meaner. And they respawn after a while.”

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  “Got it. Angry Frenchmen who come back from the dead. Dunno what the hullabaloo's all about. Just sound like normal Frenchmen to me.”

  “NO! NO FRENCHMEN, DICK! They don't even exist in this world! You think one's just gonna randomly pop up?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Ey, look! Number Go Up!”

  The dungeon was a bustling place, filled with plucky adventurers. Even here at the entrance, the occasional fell beast sometimes spawned, forcing everyone who ventured here to remain vigilant at all times.

  Just then, a respawning angry [Frenchman] popped out of the ground and began hurling insults at Dick.

  “Yeu don’t frighten us, you American pig dog! I fart in your general direction, you empty-headed animal food trough whopper!”

  “Told you,” Dick said with a smug expression.

  Greg merely gaped at the [Frenchman].

  “Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!”

  Adventurers all around them fell to the ground, clutching their ears and screaming in agony.

  With his damage done, the [Frenchman] popped back into the ground, and there was peace once again.

  “You weren’t kidding, Greg. Dungeon’s a scary place, alright.”