Day 1. My fellow crew members marooned me here, after a bout serious bowel movement nearly causing a mutiny.
Day 2. I struggle to survive from the ordeal of abandonment. With my solar powered laptop and the inability to draw cartoons, how long can I last.
Day 3. I note I'm on a regular shipping lane, yet how much I signal for help with my yellow flags, not one come to my rescue.
Day 4. My bowel movement has settled, but not without consequences. Sharks and dolphins circle my island dying adding to my woeful need for food. Surely the passing vessels can see my plight, as I frantically wave my yellow flags.
Day 5. Desperate I stabbed a sad looking shark with my discarded non functioning paint brush. Madden with the urge for food, I put my dentures to work gorging at the rancid flesh. Again those vessels are avoiding my plight, as I yell spitting shark blood.
Day 6. Boils and sores litter my frame under daily sunbaked angry rampant glare. My coconut tree shade all but gone from constant use as toilet paper. Yet those damned vessels cannot see my plight.
Day 7. The stench wafting to and fro of dead fish now pervades the air, as I cocoon in my dolphin skin suit.
I rush back and forth and jumping to keep active as I now accept my fate.
Day 8. My voice is high pitched squeaks and clicks from my diet and painful piles. I can't believe what I'm seeing a tourist vessel coming to my marooned island, as I make haste jumping around in my suit with glee. I trip and flounder grappling to enter my joy on my laptop diaries.
Day 9. Rescue of sorts. Grasping tightly to my laptop in a pool of a rescue ship. I awaken cool being bathed by my shipmates I had not been abandoned but suffering from eating a poisoned fish supper.
I leave these diaries of my venture to warn many here on the forum.
Captain Fosttock.
S S Landy.
