Day 1110 - Preparing to Celebrate
Well, tomorrow I'll have been here one hundred and eleven days. Four ones, right in a row. That calls for a holiday. Just like Monkey-Spotting Day, Scrap's Birthday, Planetary Purp Picking Day, Sick Of Goddamned Turtle Eggs Day, House-Finishing Day, and every other number I thought looked interesting on paper starting with day 8 and most recently, 1001. I think I'll combine "1111 Day" with "Escaping Flesh-eating Fish Day."
Escaping 1111 Flesh-Eating Fish Day.
I tried to get Scrap to imitate one of them paper lanterns at festivals, but when I was drawing it in the dirt with a stick for him to see, he made himself into me--only perfectly round. I laughed so hard I knocked over a special cocoa-nut I had spent two hours climbing a branchless tree to harvest. He lost no time in absorbing it. I know it's bloody crazy but I can't help but wonder if he plans these things out sometimes. Back to regular coconuts now, I suppose, and of course the bugger don't like those. He just wants the chocolate ones.
Sometimes I'm not sure I want to be rescued. I get bored enough that I'd never hide from a ship, or take down my signs, but it's like my own private Gloora. I was there once, and I remember well enough how pretty it was. No one's ruined this place yet. And there ain't no pirates complaining about my turning down a prize.
Then again, there's the floating dildo. Maybe someone'll drop in tomorrow, just for tea, and I can give them Scrap. Then it'll truly be a private Gloora.
Escaping 1111 Flesh-Eating Fish Day.
I tried to get Scrap to imitate one of them paper lanterns at festivals, but when I was drawing it in the dirt with a stick for him to see, he made himself into me--only perfectly round. I laughed so hard I knocked over a special cocoa-nut I had spent two hours climbing a branchless tree to harvest. He lost no time in absorbing it. I know it's bloody crazy but I can't help but wonder if he plans these things out sometimes. Back to regular coconuts now, I suppose, and of course the bugger don't like those. He just wants the chocolate ones.
Sometimes I'm not sure I want to be rescued. I get bored enough that I'd never hide from a ship, or take down my signs, but it's like my own private Gloora. I was there once, and I remember well enough how pretty it was. No one's ruined this place yet. And there ain't no pirates complaining about my turning down a prize.
Then again, there's the floating dildo. Maybe someone'll drop in tomorrow, just for tea, and I can give them Scrap. Then it'll truly be a private Gloora.