The friends journeyed for another two hours, by which time, the landscape was just boulders. There were no trees here, nor was there any grass. Just rocks. Rocks everywhere. All you could see were rocks. They snook passed the final human checkpoint and laughed at the stupid human vegetable lovers fumble about with their tickets. The one thing that they could see that wasn’t a rock was a great big broccoli sticking out of a crack in a rock.
“Shall we consult the book then?” Spam asked his friend. He didn’t wait for an answer.
“Once threatened, the Broccoli of Ruin grows to the size of a tree and starts to smash at you. To defeat it, you must chop it down like a tree.”
Whipping out his razor tail, Evan said, “Can we do this one together?”
As one, the two friends launched themselves into the air, claws and tails flying. Evan slammed his tail into the trunk of the broccol-tree but it just bounced straight off.
“Hmmm… That’s never happened before”, he said, before being whacked over a nearby ridge.
It was clearly up to Spam now, rocketing towards the line of tourists, he saw a shiny thing poking out one of their pockets. A knife!
“Yes!” he exclaimed, before jumping off the startled tourist into the thick of the branches of the broccol-tree. He started to use the knife like an axe, managing to chop off several branches before he was knocked to the ground.
“Ow!” he yelled, before rolling sideways to avoid another thumping branch. He rolled right over again and grabbed the branch before it could return back to the broccol-tree. It flew back into the tree anyway, eager to let the other branches bludgeon him. It didn’t work. Spam held on, and swung back into the broccol-tree. At the top of the tree, he saw an oddly shaped bit of broccoli. He bounced through the branches before seeing that it looked kind of like the top of one of those bottles that the tourists kept buying. He flicked his knife shut, avoiding another branch and flicked out the only other accessory on the tourist’s knife. It was a perfect fit. He pulled it open and luminescent green liquid shot out from the top of the broccol-tree, shooting over the ridge to where Evan had been knocked. The tree promptly withered away.
As he returned the knife to the tourist, giving a thankful “squeak”, he saw that the tourist was also carrying one of the bottles.
“Ah!” said Sam, “It must have been a beer-occol-tree!”
The moment he said this, Evan staggered over the hill. Seeing as it was nearly sunset, they made camp in one of the holes in the rocks and went to sleep for the night. They were definitely tired after a busy day of vegetable conquering.