Now if you’ll turn your bio-stasis jars to the right, you’ll find the site of the old Smorglins estate. And while the ruins of this lakeside home are overrun with 500 years of growth, the stone statue of its patriarch stands just as tall as it has done for generations. He greets every sunrise with a stoic smile and a mighty salute from the spatula in his hand.

Now many have asked me “why do you always point out the ruins of this Smorglins guy’s house on every tour?” Often my response is a questioning of their life choices and how they got here, complaining about a hour that they’ve gone on so many times that they feel they have the right to provide “honest feedback”.

This is a not only a personal place, as Mr. Smorglins was my great-great-great-great-great grandfather, but it’s also one of a historic significance. It was here that my 5x great grandfather defeated the Thrask brood lord, Qnwzzkr. My ancestor was quick to improvise during their epic confrontation and was able to vanquish his rival with a silicone spatula.

Story has it that when the brood lord’s lifeless husk fell to the ground, Smorglins looked up at their crumbling mothership in the sky and said “catch you on the flip side”. Then, the sky lit up like an unauthorized fireworks show in Florida.

Sorry, I should probably be clear, Florida was an ancient mythical landmass that is said to now be at the bottom of the Gulf of Psionic Gators in the depths of the Forgotten Zone. It’s kind of like Atlantis but everyone makes their own denim cutoff shorts and the national anthem is a Poison song. It’s not even one of their hits, either, it’s some random b-side.

Therefore, if it wasn’t for him, we’d all be living in stasis tubes and our organs harvested for alien bratwursts.

So show a little respect, that’s what I say. Now, who wants to get some frozen molecules?