The Treasure you seek is in the cave you fear.
Unless…that treasure is three taco supremes from taco bell
In that case the treasure you seek is at Taco Bell.
Such is the way of a humble warrior.
But be you such a humble warrior, after filling your stomach with your spoils for $3.27, would you not be emboldened to find some other treasure?
Indeed you may. And if this is so, you may play the little game where you drop the coins on the rotating plastic platforms. And you may win, as a reward from the heralds of the Bell of Tacos, a sword of cinnamon twists, the work of a master taco swordsman, unknown by name beyond that of taco. And though you carry it vainly, you may find that it is not a sword at all - nay, it is an invitation. An invitation to right what is wrong in this world. But how, you might ask. How, in this weighty world of ambiguity in which I may be sated by Tacos and let the rest pass as some absurd dream, how could I carry this burden of the weight of the world that surely crushed atlas before the mantle of that same world was placed back upon the giant world turtle?
Well, ha HA, you be asking the right questions then, wouldn’t you! And I could not grace you with an answer for that is of you and your cause to determine, in a wisdom that is not yet of the hour, but shall it be? I do fancy myself a man, a poor peddler fool enough to hope that yes. Yes, it shall be.
But this is, of course, a matter for your decision only. Shall you leave the taco bell with your sword, or — dare I say, for the twisting vicissitudes of fate follow the twists turns and shakes of manics dancing to a madman’s quartet - would you be so indulgent as to use the bathroom before you leave?