Chapter 66: Plushies, Yaks, and Mongolian Mayhem
After escaping North Korea with our limbs miraculously intact, we set sail for Mongolia.
Now, I know what you're thinking—
Mongolia is landlocked, you morons.
And you would be absolutely correct.
Which is why, after several days of aimless drifting, Juan was forced to admit, "
Maybe I should have looked at a map first."
So, we abandoned the
USS Freedom Plush on the shores of China and hitched a ride on a freight train heading toward the Mongolian border.
A Grand Entrance (That Went Horribly Wrong)
Brenda, still buzzing from our latest escape, had taken it upon herself to practice her newest catchphrase.
“Right, listen here, ya mongrels!” she announced to an empty freight car. “This plan is a
banger of a yak’s spit—tried and true!”
Hargrave groaned. “Please, for the love of God, stop trying to make these things happen.”
Ignoring him, Brenda gestured wildly at Juan. “And
this—this right here—is the
best bloody idea we’ve had yet! Imagine it:
Mongolian plushie yurts! A worldwide revolution in snuggly, culturally-themed real estate!”
Juan, nodding enthusiastically, spread out a crude drawing of a plush yurt. “We make it soft, collapsible,
and market it as a luxury lifestyle product! Who wouldn’t want to live in one?”
“I wouldn’t,” I muttered.
“
That’s quitter talk,” Juan shot back.
Somewhere between my growing headache and Brenda’s increasingly loud sales pitch, the train reached the Mongolian border, where we were
immediately arrested.
Welcome to Mongolia, Now Please Leave
The Mongolian border guards were not impressed with our story.
Juan tried to claim he was an "international business mogul specializing in snuggly diplomacy."
Brenda attempted to bribe them with lasagna.
Hargrave just sat there, looking dead inside.
After a brief and extremely painful interrogation involving a yak (don't ask), we were released under one condition:
Get out of Mongolia immediately.
Naturally, we ignored this condition entirely.
Plushies and the Genghis Khan Hustle
Once inside the capital, Ulaanbaatar, Brenda wasted no time setting up a roadside stand selling
Genghis Khan plushies.
“
Think about it,” she reasoned. “The bloke conquered half the known world—
inspirational figure.”
I rubbed my temples. “You’re selling plushies of one of the most feared warlords in human history.”
Juan grinned. “And business is
booming!”
To my horror, he was right. Locals and tourists alike
loved them.
Then Juan, in his infinite wisdom, decided to make a
limited edition battle-worn Genghis Khan plushie—complete with tiny, removable war trophies.
That’s when things got
out of hand.
The Mongolian Mafia Incident
As it turns out, selling battle-themed plushies of Mongolia’s greatest hero is a
very touchy subject.
We learned this when a group of
very large Mongolian men in expensive suits approached our stand.
The leader, a man with a scar running down his cheek, picked up a plushie and scowled. “This is… disrespectful.”
Juan, ever the diplomat, beamed. “
That’s the spirit! Genghis Khan would love that you’re angry! He thrived on passion!”
Brenda, sensing imminent disaster, shoved a lasagna into the man's hands. “On the house, mate.”
The man took one bite, grimaced, and then barked something in Mongolian.
I sighed. “Well, we had a good run.”
The Grand Escape (Again, Again)
What followed was yet another desperate sprint through the streets of Ulaanbaatar, dodging furious gangsters while Juan screamed, “
PROTECT THE PLUSHIES!”
Brenda, cackling like a madwoman, kept throwing lasagnas as makeshift weapons. “Told ya!
Banger of a yak’s spit!”
Hargrave, running alongside me, panted, “I swear to God, this is my personal hell.”
We barely made it out alive, diving into a taxi and screaming for the driver to take us
anywhere that wasn’t Mongolia.
Next Stop: India?
As we sped away from the city, Juan wiped sweat from his brow. “Okay.
Maybe Mongolia wasn’t ready for us.”
Brenda grinned. “No worries, mate! There’s plenty of other places left to conquer!”
I groaned. “No. No more.”
Juan ignored me entirely.
“I hear India has a
booming plushie market.”
Hargrave sighed. “I should’ve stayed in prison.”
And just like that, we were off again—into yet another disaster.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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