Okay, so the sock thing didn't exactly work out. But I'm not giving up. I'm a strategic genius, after all. Time to find a teacher.
I'm walking around, scanning the sect for someone who won't kick me out the second I ask for help. I spot a random elder sitting on a bench, looking like he's having a midlife crisis. Perfect.
I walk up to him like, "Yo, teach be my sensie."
He looks at me like I just asked for his kidney.
He sighs and says, "Kid, you're a joke. You look like someone gone through three divorces"
I nod enthusiastically. "Exactly. That's why I need help. No one else will teach me."
He glares. "You're a failure, but fine. I'll teach you one thing."
My heart races. This is it.
He hands me… a broom.
"Clean this place properly, and I'll consider you a disciple."
I stare at the broom. Maybe cleaning is my true calling. Or maybe he's testing my resolve. I pick up the broom with newfound purpose.
This is my chance. I'm gonna rise, even if I have to sweep my way to the top.