The Acolyte and the Second Task

The Acolyte came to his senses and continued his journey. He was going to achieve enlightenment even if he had to eat a sea of toe jam, even though he was hoping that he didn’t have to. The acolyte came to the dock. While a scruffy captain was busy hunting monkey in the near by forest he had stolen his ship. He had to travel to the island of Huttut, seeking the second monk. Here he would be given his second task. Surely it wouldn’t be as bad as the first task. He hadn’t spent all of his life training to feast on the dirt underneath some old geezers toe. So he continued forward. He came to the island. There he found a bamboo thatched hut. He entered cautiously. There he found a carpet and on the carpet he found a pile of what looked like saw dust. He walked around the sawdust, pondering over the many secrets this island must hold. Perhaps the monk is hiding and he would have to accomplish some daunting and unspeakable puzzles to find him. Saw dust from the mound in the centre began to crumble to the ground, which was weird because there was no breeze entering the hut. Suddenly, the acolyte heard a deep and croaky voice.

“What do you want?”

“Who said that?!”

Suddenly the mound began to tremble viciously. Saw dust fell to the ground like snow and the Acolyte then realised that this wasn’t saw dust, this was human skin. Old, decaying, clumps of human skin falling off none other than the second monk, wearing only a loin cloth.

“What brings you to my island? Come on, speak up!”

“Uhhm, well, sir, I am here to do the second task to reach enlightenment. So do you want me to battle a dragon, save a village, or perhaps swim to the bottom of the sea outside and retrieve a lost heirloom?”

The Acolyte couldn’t speak fast enough. He was praying that the monk wouldn’t ask him to eat his flaky skin.

“Ahhh, enlightenment! Anyone can achieve enlightenment my fellow friend, from the poorest serf to the wealthiest king. You just need to search your heart. Nothing guides you better for the journey than what I shall offer you. Come, follow me.”

The rapidly pealing monk walked out of the hut, followed by the Acolyte who was led by the trail of dead skin. He came to a palm tree. In its shade lay many vines covering what looked like an altar. The monk turned to the acolyte and handed him a sponged shape coral and a bottle of scented, purple liquid.

“Use these, oh honourable acolyte, too ….”

The monk jumped into the altar, which splashed out water. It was a tub.

“…give me a sponge bath.”

The Acolyte couldn’t believe what he was hearing. First eating toe jam and now this. But the Acolyte didn’t want to offend the monk and enlightenment was his main goal. So the acolyte commenced. Words can’t describe the putrid torture the Acolyte was going through. Skin was falling like an avalanche, on his face, in his hair and on his clothes. Worst yet, into his entire facial orifices, in his nose, ears and mouth. The Acolyte was about to faint when the monk began to itch.

“Ohhh, my back itches. Scratch for me, young rapscallion! "

“What! No, sir! I don’t think I can!”

“Yes you can! Here!”

The monk reached behind his back and grabbed the Acolytes hand, forcing it onto his back. It was if the Acolyte had pushed his hand through a wall of stale lasagne sheets. The Acolyte screamed and left the monk, running to his ship. He sped swiftly from the island, subconsciously hoping for a giant, disgruntled whale to come take him from his misery.