The Curse of the Human Mouth

When Lhamo was eight years old, she and her family journeyed to the local hotsprings, as was customary in the summer. While her father and uncles sat and drank chang, fermented barley beer, her mother left her and her younger brothers to play while she greeted the arriving nomads. With them was her old Aunt Worm-Spit, who lived up in the monastery on the borders of Kham, her homeland, and Amdo. She had always been a rather shy girl, especially around her Aunt, as the one thing she really wanted to ask her was always too scary to contemplate. This time was different, though.

"Ah-nay, auntie, can I ask you something?" She said when her aunt looked suitably relaxed and talkative.

"How did you get your name?"

Aunt Worm-Spit shifted round to get a better view of her niece, and opened her mouth in a toothy smile.

"When I was sixteen years old, my brother Tenzin was asked to do a weather ritual, as that year was filled with rainfall that was so heavy, it destroyed small houses. This was because the chieftain believed him to have the gift of a Ser-Sung, a hailstorm watcher, one who could control the weather. As you know, this gift runs in our family, and was attributed to Tenzin after he made the sun come out for a wedding, when he was only five. After appeasing the deities, he was given a message by the rain gods, that he would be granted a wish-fulfilling jewel for his efforts, and the path would be made clear to him in time.
"The very next day, the rains slowed, and then stopped, leaving in their wake the biggest rainbows I have ever seen, to this day. It is an old superstition that if you cover yourself with dog dung, and then cover the dog in dog dung, and ride it along the rainbows path, the rainbow will never dim for you and you will find a wish-fulfilling jewel at the end. Taking this as his message, it was a strange sight the next morning to see him in the centre of town, covered in dung, and straddling a similarly coated dog, waving goodbye as he struggled along the road.
Days grew into weeks and no word or sighting of him was found, and in the meantime, I had grown terribly ill. My mother was so worried, she did everything she could and even called a doctor for me, but I would not get better.
"As I grew worse and worse, one day an old man arrived at the door, the father of my mother's friend Dolma. He said he knew the cause of my suffering, and so my mother let him in. His story was that he had heard Dolma and her friends gossiping amongst themselves, talking of how unfortunate I was to have such a brother, and whether I had his gift of weather or his gift of madness. My mother instantly recognised what was wrong, as did he. I was under the curse of Mi-kha, human mouth. It is believed that whenever people mention your name in abundance, whether in praise or in blame, a curse will fall upon you resulting in illness. She instantly resolved to change my name to something people would rather not say, thus removing the curse. A usual name to give someone in this situation is Khyi-Kyag, Dog-dung, but this might have had even more negative effects, so she renamed me after the two things that get rid of dung, worms and spit."

By this time most of the inhabitants of the children's hotspring were listening intently, and noticing this, Worm-Spit smiled and moved to where Lhamo's mother sat, so as to give the children room to play, now that their minds were no longer focused.

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This tale is not traditional, but used to highlight certain examples of folk culture. The names, traditions, places, ect are all real.
Now you know what to do next time that rainbow appears.