Thursday, June 13, 2013

Wordy Day 2 Mario Bernadett: Lost on an island. (Probably not a desert island, despite whining to the contrary.)

........Darn it! I missed another one again. Does it make things any better that I thought today was Wednesday?
If you were lost on a desert island, what would be your first thought?
Would you panic? Would you panic and then immediately go searching for water? Would coconutes be at the top of the list of things to find, or would you just walk along the edge, heedless of your waking nightmare of a shark suddenly deciding that it's time to try life on land just to eat a lil chillin. (I figure they'd talk without pronouncing any consanants hard, ya know, teeth. Way too many teeth makes it hard to speak and never mind that whole, head's kinda just part of the body so, no neck and probably no voice box.
They'd have to be sharks with translator collars but it wouldn't matter because they'd go on land and they'd. Eat. You! Aaaaaaaaaaah! That is what I'd think about. That's exactly what I'm thinking about so, even though it might be good to go out on the coast and try to get someone's attention, I'm sitting curled up on a rock, being as still as possible so that murderous gorilla monkey hybrids do not EAT MY FACE OFF.

My name is Mario Bernadett and I am a casualty of a yacht accident. It was my sister's yacht. I am twelve. I do not get a yacht. After this, I don't think I want a yacht. Unless my parents have a tracking device planted in my clothing (not in me, egh! I can't stand scalpels) and can send it to me RIGHT NOW.

I'm sorry if I'm shouting. I sorta thought that since this is in my own head, I wouldn't have to deal with critics.Who am I kidding. It never works that way. Give it enough time and my older sister, the one who GOT ME INTO THIS MESS, ah, sorry, will pop up in my head and start interrupting me.

"So, whatcha doing?" said a familiar, nasal feminine voice. My head sagged and the voice continued. "Curled up on a rock, how effective. Wait here long enough and I'm sure you will be found. Maybe they'll even tell you what a brave little boy you are." Her voice took on a tinkling quality, the nasal haughtiness fading away as she drove the point in deeper with fake sympathy. "Oh, I know. I'll go get help." She began to laugh and I frowned. She was only being Sybil, nothing new and in real life she really wasn't so bad.

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