The Memoirs of Guybrush Threepwood: The Monkey Island Years
From Monkey Island wiki
The Memoirs of Guybrush Threepwood: The Monkey Island Years is a fictional book, apparently written by Guybrush, that chronicles his adventures throughout the series. Proposed excerpts from the book are featured on the back of each of the game boxes. It is not known when, where or why Guybrush decided to write the book but the writing suggests that it was written years after the events of the games. Guybrush has also written a trilogy of books (found at the Phatt City Library) explaining his defeat of LeChuck.
Excerpts
"I cursed my luck again as I slid down the monkey's throat. Have my dreams of guzzling grog and plundering galleons been reduced to this? "Three small trials and you're a pirate like us." Fair enough. If only I could stomach the foul brew these scurvy seadogs swilled, the rest would be easy. How could I have known I'd meet a powerful and beautiful woman with a jealous suitor too stupid to realize he'd been dead for years? And how can I crawl through this great stone monkey to find a man who walks three inches above the ground and sets fire to his beard every morning?"
"I thought I'd killed the Ghost Pirate LeChuck for good. Wrong. How many times can that bloated old fool die? Other pirates tell me there's no escape. "When LeChuck wants you dead, you're dead", they say. Legend has it that the treasure of Big Whoop holds the key to great power... I must find it before LeChuck finds me."
"I've sailed the seas from Trinidad to Tortuga and I've never seen anything like it! The engagement ring I gave Elaine has a terrible pirate curse on it. LeChuck is behind it, I'm sure. I should have known that nothing good could come out of that evil zombie's treasures. And if that's not bad enough, the clairvoyant I met in the mangrove swamp told me that if I am to break the curse and save Elaine, I will have to die!"
"Spitting the sand of Monkey Island from my mouth, I began to wonder if the life of a mighty pirate was all it was cracked up to be. I'd ignored recent events that should have been warning shots across the bow of my soul, from my wife's brush with death to the anti-pirate ramblings of Australian gazillionaire Ozzie Mandrill. If only I'd chosen a different path, LeChuck might still be dead, and the mystery of the Ultimate Insult might have remained an enigma. If I'd never picked up a sword, the grog-swilling pirates of the Tri-Island Area might be unthreatened by the twin forces of gentrification and demonic heckfire. If only . . . suddenly, the hairy finger of a familiar monkey tapped me on the shoulder. It was time. Time to stop LeChuck (again). Time to make the world safe for pirates. Time for the biggest battle of my swashbuckling life."
"When is a sword more than just a sharpened piece of steel used for stabbing a scurvy seadog or trimming a nasty toenail? When it's crafted with a purpose! I've sailed the seven seas in search of archaic charms and curiosities, each one rarer than a corked cask of grog on a stranded schooner; I've raided the sunken smelters of Popgowatu for the finest of tools; and I've worked by candlelight in the yawing quarters of my ship to forge together the raw materials into the finest of blades, all to finally put a bloody end to my undead rival and stealer of spouse. It is now that this sword is more than just a sword; it is a covenant! I'm not exactly sure what that word means, but it sounds right. I must make haste for the Rock of Gelato! The seas will sleep soundly tonight, for LeChuck's time is up!"
