Lost

Well... last night I slept under the boat that I found. I didn't feel comfortable about sleeping inside the boat... the way the gerbils all tried to hide behind one another everytime I entered the cabin disturbed me.

After sleeping under the Dogarella I set off back into the jungle again looking for anyone or anything that might be able to help me get theboat back in the water and drive the damn thing.

Not that I know where to sail it. I don't know where home is anymore. I don't even know what my name is.

As I wandered aimlessly looking at myself in my portable miror I tripped over something metal sticking out of the ground...

Dodgerella

As night began to fall I decided to seek shelter. So far I have seen no further evidence of the hairymen or the ministry of silly hats. Good for me of course... probably not so good for them. But thats a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

So anyway... as I fought my way though the dense and tangled undergrowth I came across a strange site. well... probably not as strange as Skook and his cathatastrophic hat of cat but still somewhat unusual. I found a boat parked half way up a tree. How the boat ended up in tree is anyones guess... but I'd say it was probably the result of extremely poor sailing. Scrawled across the hull of the boat was the name "Dodgerella". If I could get the boat out of the tree I might be able to sail the away from this cursed island. I climbed the tree and boarded the boat.

It was wedged in the tree pretty well... but by the looks of it if it could be broken free it might slide all the way down this hill and into the water. Unfortunatly though some fool had put a device upon the steering wheel... some sort of metal device called "Ye Mighty Club".... it seemed to prevent the wheel turning. I needed a key to open it.

So... I needed to find the owner... or at least the key. I looked into the cabin to see an odd assortment of objects. A black leather gimp suit, a cage that contained several worried looking gerbils, an array of oddly shaped wooden knobs, a bucket of soapy frogs, handcuffs, a wardrobe full of studded loincloths and a large helmet with two stupid looking horns poking out of it. Sigh. How was I to find out who owned the boat.

Mad Monkeys

A hairyman stepped out from behind a tree.... then another... and another... one was holding another potential cat hat it its hairly little hands...

Skook was making straining noises as he tried to pry the cat off his head... it had quite a good grip and was making suctiony noises like a fat mans bum in a bathtub as he wrestled with it.

As Conning the Viking slowly toppled over due to the overbalancing of his horny helmet I thought it best to exit stage left before one of the hairymen messed up my hair by doing unto me what they'd done unto Skook.

So run I did, into the jungle away from the evil hairymen and the ministry of silly hats. Behind me i could hear a lot of squawking and hollering rapidly fading into the distance until eventually all I could hear was the wind in the trees.

Safe at last I sat against a tree and let that warm wind blow over me... and i relaxed...

To the sound of the wind...the buzz on insects...the slithery sound of snakes...
the skittering of several large spiders... and if a spider's large enough to hear... I don't want to hear about it!... as deep growl of someithing with big teeth rumbled off in the distance... it became more and more difficult to relax.

I tried in vain to remember my name... Hawkshnitzle?, sparrowbun?, magpie..er..pie, owlhotdog? Albatrossnuts?...

sigh...

My name is...

"My name is...".... I realised that the spot in my head where my name should be lighting up in big *neon letters was unfortunately dark and lacking in name type information.

I glanced around for clues...

One of the hairball stealing hairy little men had sauntered out of the trees again... hands clasped behind its back.... I swear it looked like it was trying to whistle and look inconspicuous as it edged toward another of the fallen hairballs from the trees. Skook the Peon dropped down on his knees as it approached and tried to communicate with the native...

"Maaate...awww... c'mon Maaaaaate" He babbled....

I wondered what bizarre language he was speaking for a second and then the hairy man grabbed a nearby dead cat and jumped upon Skooks head. There was a flurry of screeching from the hairyman and Skook... and a few "Maaaate...whatcha doin? maaate....awwww maaaaaaate thats not nice maaaaaate!" and when the dust cleared the hairy man was gone... and Skook was wearing a new hat. It had a tail and a distinct cat like look about it.

Skook tried in vain to remove the hat...or rather cat... cat hat perhaps... but the aperture wrapped around his forehead was far too tight. The tail hung out over his ear... the cats dead eyes stared up at the sky. Like some demented **Davy Crockett Hat… In retrospect it was a lucky cat... lucky that it was already dead. Now ask yourself just what the aperture was.

Conning sniggered… just as a hairy ball fell from above him and impaled itself on his horny helmet… unbalancing him… and making him stumble to one side.

So there they were… Skook with his cat hat and Conning with his lopsided horny helmet. The ministry of silly hats.

“My name is…”… I pondered…

Then I heard noises rustling in the undergrowth…





* Neon : what the hell is neon?... is that word a memory?... never mind.
** Davy Crocket : not sure who this person is… a have vague memories of him having a similar hat…