Monday, February 14, 2011

Reverie Spicket

I am Reverie Spicket, here to inform you about a strange happening here on Peach Island.  Today, I was walking along the shoreline, quite content when suddenly, a genetically mutated monkey wearing a tiger costume jumped out from the trees.  I was so shocked, I almost fell into the water.  I wanted to run.  Unfortunately for me, though, I was spoken to by the monkey who said, "Help me please!  I've been stuck on this island for years, and no one ever comes to help me."
     I was quite galvanized by the fact that this ebullient monkey dressed in a tiger suit was actually talking to me.  So then I answered him.  "Oh, then that explains why there's always a bonfire out here on this deserted island.  I thought people camped here."
"No, no!" said the monkey.  "People think this island is cursed.  They never go here.  They probably think you're crazy, going on this island.  They'll probably slaughter you when you get home, thinking you are a witch or something."
I didn't quite recall ever hearing such a thing about this island.  I thought it was an island like any other.  Maybe this was an island like any other, and the monkey was just being a trickster.  "Oh, well.  That makes more adventure for me.  How did you get stuck on this island?  I would think it's quite easy to get off," said I.
The monkey tilted his head and posed in a fanciful stance.  "Well," he started.  "First of all, though I may be a genetically mutated monkey, I still can't swim, and I still can't figure out how to build a raft."
"Well, sad for you," said I, towering above the monkey.  "So you can talk, yet you can't think?"
"Correct," the monkey said sadly.
"Not quite logical in my society," said I, taking out a pen and a notepad, beginning to write about the monkey.
     Then the strangest thing happened.  As I stood there and wrote my little notes, a strange noise ripped through the air.  It sounded between a jet plane or an old gas car breaking down.  Or could it have sounded more like a watery rumble of engines?  I could not tell, but the sound continued for quite a while until I finally looked down at the monkey.  The minute I glanced at him, the sound almost immediately stopped.  I tilted my head.  That was certainly strange.  I looked back down to my notebook and the sound uttered again.  Finally, I had looked up and said to the monkey, "Oh, will you stop that!"
"Sorry, ma'am, but another side effect of this genetic mutation is that I have a farting disorder," said he.  "I must say, it goes on for quite a while.  You might want to get off the island before it spreads."
"No wonder this island is cursed!" said I.  "Well,  I cannot help you.  There must be a reason you're on this island if you have such a. . . peculiar disorder."
     And so I left the island and published this article in which you read now.  I must say, the stench on that island seemed pretty strange from the start when I got there.

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