The Great Chieftain of Mosestaria was not sure what to do with all this new-found peace. At first, he thought he could use it to spy on his friends. It turned out that his cousin, the good Mordecai, had finally mastered the complexities of speaking Great Barry-R-ian, and had used this skill to befriend one of the native women. The bad Mordecai, although he hadn't discovered a bunyip, actually had located an uninhabited billabong with nearby bus access, and so was commuting to where the other explorers were encamped on a daily basis. The Great Chieftain was a little disappointed about this, as he'd secretly hoped that the bad Mordecai would just assimilate into the native population, but he figured he was still probably struggling to get a grip on the peculiarities of the language.
Tzipora, it turned out, did indeed wear her beautiful hair up, but usually only early in the mornings, after she had washed it in the ocean and before she had finished drying it. On one particular morning, while the Great Chieftain was looking after Bubba and Tzipora was drying her hair, the Great Chieftain noticed (although he did not have the best eyesight) a strange mark on the back of Tzipora's neck. Taking out his binoculars, the Great Chieftain (may his eyes be ever clear, and his vision ever far) was surprised to note that the mark was some sort of serial number.
When she returned to the campsite to cook breakfast, the Chieftain asked her about it.
"Tzipora, what is that mark on the back of your neck?"
Tzipora froze - at least temporarily - and instinctively put her hand to the back of her neck, although both her neck and her number were already covered by her beautiful, dark hair.
"How... how do you mean?" she asked. "I have my hair down?" she added, as if this invalidated the Great Chieftain's question.
"Oh, I just noticed this morning you had a *serial* *number* on the back of your neck?" the Great Chieftain asked casually.
The Great Chieftain had noted that Tzipora's face had started to turn a shade red.
"Oh, errr, why Great Chieftain, I am somewhat embarrassed by that mark," the Japovian warrioress had explained.
The Great Chieftain wiped away her embarrassment with a wave of his hand. "I am sorry, Tzipora. I did not mean to pry, but I was curious. You do not need to explain."
"But I want to explain, O Great Chieftain," replied the loyal warrioress earnestly. "You see, when I was just a little warrioress-tyke, my parents got caught up in some sort of cult..." the warrioress began hesitantly.
The Chieftain shook his head in sympathy, and immediately thought of the Empress of Lanolinland.
"Yes," the warrioress continued. "It was some type of Doomsday cult, and my father - a senior diplomat in the Japovian government - was investigating them, as they were threatening to purchase the parcel of land containing the Great Plug of Japovia, and sell it to a foreign power."
The Great Chieftain gasped. "Couldn't the government just prohibit foreign investment into parcels of land containing the Great Plug of Japovia?" the Great Chieftain asked incredulously.
"Well, they could have," admitted the beautiful warrioress, "but the Japovian government had by that stage already been infiltrated with agents of the Doomsday cult. So any Act to pass such a law would have been extremely difficult without some sort of mechanism to compel the treasonous members of government to comply with it."
The Great Chieftain nodded. For all its flaws, the Great Chieftain style of government did have its advantages when it came to preventing corruption.
"Well," Tzipora continued, "Investigating this death cult was very dangerous work - for my entire family. If the cult were to find out about my father's investigative efforts - it would kill not only my father, but likely myself and my mother also."
The Great Chieftain scowled with anger. This cult was reminding him more and more of the Empress of Lanolinland.
"Anyhoo," continued Tzipora, "Said cult had a special machine they used for labeling their cult-members, so they could easily identify one if he got amnesia and started life elsewhere under an assumed identity, or accidentally booked a ticket to the wrong country and subsequently got lost and couldn't find his way back, or something like that."
The Great Chieftain put his hand to his mouth to cover his surprise.
"And while you and your mother were helping your father to investigate, you fell into the labeling machine?" he asked incredulously.
Tzipora nodded. "Mom and I told Father that basically, we were all going to get killed if we got caught, so we might as well help him investigate. Unfortunately, my legs at the time were too short to step over the label processing slot at the cult's HQ, and I fell in, and now I have that serial number on the back of my neck."
The Great Chieftain nodded. "Well, I'm pleased you survived that terrible situation. And I'm also pleased you're not some sort of robot created by Elon Musk to spy on me and help take over the world, like in that movie..."
Tzipora laughed nervously. "The Terminator?" she asked.
"Yes, I think that's the one," replied the Great Chieftain. "Starring the previous governor of California... Arnold somebody, I think his name was."
"Well, I don't think a terminator would care to save a child from a cult, or even have the ability to feed the child that she rescued, do you?" Tzipora advised the Great Chieftain.
The Great Chieftain smiled broadly, and shook his head contentedly. "If I learned anything from the Terminator movies, it's that super-deadly, killer-robots always look and act suspiciously."
"Also, I'm part Jewish," Tzipora added.
But the Great Chieftain had already finished listening, and had moved onto his next scheme of procuring an invitation from Miss Ruby to Eden Island, for some of the bogan inhabitants of Barry R Island who he was starting to get to know.
1
