PART SIX: Whoops In Which Our Intrepid Traveler Is The Victim of an Innocent Misunderstanding; Spends Some Leisure Time Getting In Some Target Practice; And Is An Unwitting Bystander To Murder. I rub shoulders with mingling throngs of Tobatu as I poke my way through their village, making my way for the biggest hut. There I am told Kikzu, the patriarch of these noble, nude folk, is willing to meet with me. Scores of Tobatu point and whisper around me, and the magnitude of the honour I've been given is suddenly clear to me. I throw a little more funk into my walk to show how immensely cool I am with the loopy curve balls these people keep pitching me. Inside, unfortunately, I'm a handful of loose nerve endings. All the stories with which Renato's been filling my innocent American head flood through my psyche, and I can't help but flash on images of this dignified, subdued people suddenly losing it for reasons unknown to me and making frantic grabs for my eyes. It's unsettling, and ten seconds later, when one of the locals innocently reaches out a hand to touch the brim of my hat, I detonate in an explosion of hysteria, whipping out my Luger and firing several rounds into a nearby wooden statue. I will later maintain that I fired off those rounds in the most non-threatening manner possible. Be that as it may, the sounds of spraying gunfire prove too much for the Tobatu to cope with. Within seconds every tribesman in a hundred yard radius leaps to the ground in terror. All is deathly silent. I can't help but suspect that I've committed yet another social blunder. I look to Renato and Booma for help, but discover that they also sprawl cowering in the tall grass with their hands over their heads, the big sissies, and are no help at all. I decide to make lemonade out of an admittedly lemony situation. The bright side of all of this is that I now have the undivided attention of the entire village. I'd been meaning to lay down a few ground rules since my arrival anyway, and I now have the opportunity to do just that. First order of business: There will be no one touching me. I had been clear on this point over the phone with Renato, and it strikes me as the perfect time to reiterate it here for the Tobatu. Since I don't speak their language, I opt instead for interpretive mime. Despite my pleading, however, Renato seems disinclined to lend a hand in the pantomime, and my plans fall apart. Explaining the importance of not touching the golden stranger is essentially a two-man show. I lack the theater background to tackle it solo. Instead, I fire a few more clips into the statue, which seems to deliver the same message anyway. Following this I am quickly hustled into Kikzu's hut by Renato, who seems upset for some reason. I hope he isn't having troubles at home. I meet Kikzu, the patriarch of the Tobatu, for the first time. He is about thirty, going on one hundred and seven, and is well-muscled in the most unpleasant way possible. All sinews and lean mass, I would describe him as having a "swimmer's build," though "composed entirely of beef jerky" would do just as well. Kikzu looks like the visual equivalent of licking Jack Palance. He says something to me in his native tongue, and I tip my hat to him. An awkward pause follows. I lean backward and whisper to Renato. "Hey, what am I supposed to do now?" I say. "I can't believe you fired a gun at a statue of their god," says Renato, locked in the past as usual. "Well, you shouldn't have told me all those ghost stories, then," I say, defending my actions. "Look, he keeps staring at me. What am I supposed to do here?" Renato sighs, but eventually gives in and tells me the score. "It is customary for outsiders to give the patriarch a gift of some kind," he tells me. "Tough luck for him," I say. "The tribe already ate all my Crispy Crunches. Didn't they, Booma?" I add accusingly, but Booma doesn't get it. Renato roots through his knapsack, and pulls out a handful of nails. "Give him these," he says. "They can use them to build theirŅ" "I'm aware of what people use nails for, Renato," I say, grabbing the nails. Then, as solemnly as possible, I toss the gift over to Kikzu. "There you go, fellah," I say, winking. "Don't use them all in one place." "I was just trying to be helpful," says Renato, sulking. "Oh, don't get all mad," I say. "I was only making the point that I'm aware of the existence and purpose of nails." "You're such a dick," Renato hisses, unfairly. "What?" I counter. "Listen, if anyone here's a dick, it's you. Who didn't tell me not to run at the Tobatu, huh? You almost got me killed with your negligence, you negligent dick!" "Excuse me," interjects Booma. We ignore him. "How am I supposed to guess which stupid thing you're going to do next?" Renato fumes. "I walk off for one minute to examine some local pottery, and you're firing bullets into a Tobatu shrine!" "It didn't look like a shrine! It looked like a..." I scramble for words. "...a diorama." "A diorama! The Tobatu aren't seventh grade science students!" "Well, I know that now, don't I? Jesus Christ, Booma, what is it?" I ask, because Booma keeps tapping me on the shoulder. My eyes follow his frantic pointing gestures over to the patriarch Kikzu, who clutches at his throat, turning purple. I don't see the nails anywhere. "Whoops," I say. "Does anyone here know the Heimlich?" Kikzu falls over dead. "Alright, plan B," I recover. "Does anyone here know how to run away really fast?" intro / 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8