Blog Ninjas Mystery Topic Challenge #7

Well, it’s Blog Ninja’s Mystery Topic Challenge Time, and this is MTC #7.  As CO-Winner of #6, I got to co-pick the topic for #7.  Although I am not co-eligible to win again, I am writing for the fun of it.
The topic is:  You awaken to find yourself stranded on a deserted island with nothing but a pocket knife, a bottle of Jack Daniels, and Britney Spears. How did you get there, and what do you do now?

If you feel you would like to participate, or just check out the rest of the contestant’s entries, and especially when you are ready to vote, go to the following link:  Blog Ninja’s Mystery Topic Challenge
Soon they will have links to all the other stories.  But, everyone might hate my topic so much they choose to quit Blog Ninjas.

The following is an excerpt from a diary found buried in the sand on a small resort island in the South Pacific.  No one has ever come forward and claimed authorship and, unfortunately, Britney Spears has been impossible to reach lately for questioning.

Day One: 
I was in the coach section of the plane when suddenly everything went haywire.  I have no idea what happened, but suddenly there was a loud pop and those oxygen masks they always talk about fell out of the ceiling.  At first I thought it was a joke.  I mean, who has every really seen those things.  I never really believed they were even up there.  When it fell down in front of my face I just stared at it a few moments.  It seemed so surreal, and it only got worse. 
My stomach shot up into my throat as we dropped rapidly to earth.  Everyone was screaming and shit was flying everywhere.  I remember thinking, “Where is all this shit coming from?  Did somebody carry on a file cabinet?”
Just when I assume I’m about to die...slam...darkness.  I’m suddenly waking up strapped to my seat underwater.  I thought we would be over Nebraska by now. Where did all this water come from?  I unbuckle my seatbelt and swim up towards the dull light above.  Flames, debris and floating bodies are all I see, then I spot a seat cushion floating nearby.  Once again, I am momentarily stunned by the sight.  They always said they would float, but I assumed it was just airline propaganda.  I swam to it and clung tenaciously to it’s buoyant goodness.  I started kicking away from the wreckage, not for any real reason, just because that is what they always seemed to do in the movies, and I half expected an explosion or jet engine to suddenly crash right next to my head. 
As I floated around aimlessly I heard someone in the distance calling for help.  My eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and I could make out a shape kicking towards me on another flotation device.  As she grew nearer I realized she looked familiar.  When she got next to me and started rambling incoherently I realized that:  A.  I definitely knew who it was and B.  The seats in first class must have been huge because her flotation device was probably twice the size of mine.
When I figured out she was Britney Spears I prayed that there was about to be a hidden camera crew pulling up in a boat next to us and everyone would have a real laugh.  As we paddled alone away from the wreckage I slowly accepted the fact that this was for real.

Day Two:
I awoke on a sandy beach, it was hot and the sun was beating down on me relentlessly.  I propped myself up on my elbows and surveyed the surroundings.  To my right was a long beach curving off in the distance, ahead of me was a tropical forest and the the left was an unconscious Britney Spears.  I am not sure which side was more unbelievable. 
I crawled over to her and poked her tentatively with the toe of my shoe.  I still couldn’t believe she was here.  She moaned, rolled over and immediately said, “Get me a mocha latte.” I caught myself looking around for the nearest coffee stand when she screamed it this time, “GET ME A MOCHA LATTE!” I don’t think she was aware of our situation.
After a few hours of shouting orders over my repeated explanations I think it started to sink in.  She quit demanding I fetch her things, but she also keeps claiming the monkeys in the trees are “paparazzi” trying to take her picture.  So, I’m thinking she is still in shock.
I went to sleep huddled in a hole I dug on the beach.  It was cold, but I can tough it out.  I offered to let Britney sleep in my hole, but she refused and wandered off.  I don’t know where she slept.  In the morning I will work on a shelter.  I have seen plenty of movies about people on deserted islands, so I pretty much know what to do.

Day Three:
Well, my attempts to build us a shelter are proving difficult.  It isn’t easy with nothing but a pocket knife.  Britney refuses to help and keeps telling me how much better the Four Seasons is in L.A.  I managed to put together what I thought was a pretty sturdy lean-to, but she pushed it over and laughed at me.  At first I thought I could take this chance to get to know her and become her next husband.  I mean, it doesn’t seem hard, and I would only have to stay married to her for a few months, then I’m divorced and rich.  After only a little more than forty eight hours I have realized it isn’t worth it.  I want to punch her in the eyeball and ask K-Fed how he put up with it.
I went a short way into the jungle to find some fresh water and look for fruit.  Britney refused to come with me.  She said that is where the “paparazzi” were and they kept screeching at her and taking her picture.  She also said one of them flung some poop at her earlier, but that was actually me.  I couldn’t help it.

Day Four:
Oh my God!  She won’t shut up.  If I hear another “awesome adventure” she has had with Paris I’m going to kill myself.  I started building a raft today with the intention of leaving her on the island, but she found my hiding spot.  She was carrying a baby wild boar in a hand woven basket.  She said his name was “Sexy” and I would have to make the raft bigger so he could have his own room.  She offered me $500 to baby sit him tonight.  She set him down beside my half built raft and wandered off into the jungle.  From all the movies I’ve seen, you should never wander into a tropical jungle.  I hope a wild animal eats her.  She doesn’t know it yet, but I am going to eat Sexy tonight while she sleeps.

Day Five:
Sexy tasted fabulous.  I did not offer any to Britney because I am hoping she won’t survive.  I tried to sail away from her on my raft today but the current was to strong and kept washing me back to shore.  She laughed at my attempts and said I was “too cute”.  I loathe every inch of her.
I was calculating the tide flow in the sand using advanced mathematics when Britney walked up with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a large glass of ice.  I asked her where the hell she got the booze from, and more importantly, where did she find ice.  She said the Jack Daniels washed ashore a few nights ago and the ice was from the restaurant just a short walk through the woods.  I stared at her in disbelief, not just because she had been going to a restaurant all these nights, but also because she managed to drink two whole glasses in less than one minute. 
I asked her why she hadn’t told me about the restaurant.  She told me I was funny and she liked watching me try to escape on my raft.  She also asked where Sexy was.  Ignoring her sexy inquiries, I stood up and walked slowly towards the jungle.  I had only gone thirty yards when I spotted the restaurant, which was attached to a small resort filled with small Asian people.  I couldn’t believe I had been outsmarted by Britney. 
As I trudged out of the other side of the jungle in a starving, dehydrated stupor, I heard the monkeys above me start screeching.  I looked up just in time to see one pull out a camera and start taking pictures.  Britney was right about it all.  I wish I had died in the plane crash.

•   Comments(10)    Posted by killer on 02/10 at 08:08 PM
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