It was my wife Jiji’s lifelong dream to open a pottery shop in Hyrule Castle Town. She had grown up making pots and bowls with her grandmother and wanted to share this deep family tradition with others. It took us many lean years of scrimping and saving, me chasing cuccos at Lon Lon Ranch and Jiji playing ocarina music for coins in Kakariko Village, but we were finally able to open our own place so that my wife could share her handcrafted pottery with the world.
Last spring, my beloved Jiji was eaten by a marauding band of monsters. I don’t like to dwell on it, but it was one of those giant skull-spiders that got her. I don’t know what kind; I’m not an entomologist, but it was probably heralding another fucking rise of Ganon or some shit. Anyway, since the thing swallowed my wife whole, our pottery shop held the last physical memory of my Jiji. Unfortunately, now even that’s all gone.
Earlier this week, some screeching elf-looking miscreant wandered into our pottery shop with a fucking sword and broke every goddamn pot. This couldn’t have come at a worse time since we had just gotten in a huge order for the village festival. How will people carry their water, fruit, and rupees (apparently) now? That little shit not only ruined me financially but when he smashed those pots—eighty-four of them—he smashed my wife’s memory, all for some loose change and a single Deku Nut that he triumphantly raised in the air for a good ten seconds.
Look, I’m not usually this kind of guy, but I’m just looking for funds to replace my inventory so that I don’t have to go to Princess Zelda, hat in hand, hoping not to freeze to death this winter. Not all of us can be born into Hyrule royalty or be ordained as some sort of “chosen one.” Some of us just make fucking pots.