Grim Fandango Final v2 .pdf


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Endive was definitely the friendly sort. Quiet, very respectful, and thoroughly
unhelpful.
“Hey carnal, let’s go for a ride.” I’d say.
“Sorry, sir.” Endive would reply. “But the car’s having its tires rotated.”
And he kept on like that. If I didn’t want the car for official purposes it was
getting a lube job or the timing belt was being adjusted, or something.
Eventually, I caught on.
“You’re just making excuses, aren’t you?” I accused him one day after he
fed me another slice of bullshit.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir; but the company won’t let me drive you anywhere
except to and from the Land of the Living. If I break the rules I could lose my
job.” He said that like it was the worst thing in the world.
“Why didn’t you just say so at the beginning?”
“I don’t like to disobey, sir.”
“But you can lie, apparently.”
“Yes, sir. But please don’t tell anyone.”
I hid my phantom smile by taking a puff on my cigarette. “Still, you can drive
whenever you feel like it if I’m not in the car, right?” I’d seen Endive tearing
around the streets of El Marrow and he knew it.
“Oh, yes, sir. I have to drive.”
“Have to?”
“I am an elemental spirit, sir, a spirit of the land. It’s what I was made for.”
“So let me get this straight…” I said. “You’re saying you were created just
to drive cars? You have a purpose in being and you know what it is?”
“Oh, yes, sir!” Endive answered enthusiastically.
That piece of news didn’t exactly make my day. By the time this conversation
took place I was way past fear and crossing into bitterness. Finding out that
demons knew their purpose in life was… it was NOT something I wanted to
know. “If only I could have known that kind of thing when I was alive…” I
kept thinking. “I wouldn’t be in this mess now.” But, eventually, I got over it
and I settled into the job of picking up souls in the Land of the Living and
trying to sell them the best travel packages they qualified for.
“Why do some clients qualify for better travel packages?” I had asked our
trainer in the beginning.
“They led good lives.” He snapped back at me.
“Qué traes! How do you define a ‘good life’?”
“Better than yours and mine.”
Eventually I accepted the rules of the DOD and the restrictions the company
placed on its agents. At first, I went along with the rules because I had been
scared into line. Later on, because I became fatalistic. But finally, when things
started to make some sense, I began following the rules because I became
convinced they were right. I never understood completely why the DOD did
things the way it did, but I understood enough to see that there must be a
reason for it all.

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