Escaping the Island

The island was nice for the first year, a fine home the second year, and by the third year Janet had resigned herself to living on this uncharted piece of earth for the remainder of her days.  At the start of the forth year, 48 months after the cruise ship capsized,  48 months after a a turtle grabbed the broken door she was floating on and raced away from the scene; something changed.

The island could no longer be her home.  She missed Netflix and grocery stores, bar crawls and email.  To some degree she even missed her neighbors.

She turned to her favorite companion, an island bird called Beak Beak, and let the world know of her decision.  “Beak Beak, I’m flying off this island.”

Months passed. Acres of trees were felled.  Coconuts galore were cracked open and turned into radios, wheels, propellers and, finally, an engine.

She and the loyal army of native animals that had come to serve her lowered the coconut oil powered engine into a coconut frame chassis and watched as Beak Beak pecked at the button to turn the engine on.

“Yahoo!” Janet shouted as the engine roared to life.  Beak3, Beak Beak’s older brother with a chip on his little bird equivalent of a shoulder, spun the propeller and the crowd waited to see what would happen next.

The plane held together.  Janet raced to the pilot’s seat and waved farewell to her animal compatriots. Beak Beak shed a tear, somehow, and a number of large predators nodded their heads in approval and appreciation.

Days passed.  Nothing but water and the occasional whale jumping from the ocean attempting to knock the plane out of the water.  Janet loathed whales.

She was beginning to worry about her fuel source; steam from a constantly burning supply of coconut oil, when the greatest scene of her life came into view.  Land.

The plane touched down with hardly a thud and Janet was swarmed by curious beach goers and life guards.

A flurry of questions came to her as she left the makeshift craft and jumped to sandy shore below.  Words flew at her.  Actually, real words.  No squawks or roars.  Before long she was placed under a blanket and escorted by a police officer to somewhere more friendly.  She told her story; the boat, the turtle, the island, Beak Beak.

One of the counselors that had been brought in to comfort Janet had one pressing question at the end of the chat.  “Janet, you’re obviously wildly intelligent, but even then, how did you make a working plane on your own?”

Janet wiped away a tear, “I grew up on Gilligan’s Island reruns and when I left coconut oil was everywhere.  Figured it couldn’t hurt to try.  Is coconut oil still omnipresent?”

The counselor laughed, “oh my gosh, you’re going to be just fine getting back into things.”


Thanks for reading!

For some truly absurd internet time, check out my brand new single topic blog full of bad art and silly captions. Lunch Hour Characters:



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