Monday, January 9, 2012
The Island Series Part 2: A Celtic Thunder Fiction (circa 2009)
George watched as Keith wandered off with his Island babes. He looked around the now-empty clearing and muttered to no one in particular, "Well, now what am I going to do??"
He picked up the stick he'd been using to fend off the women... Not as a cane. Honest!!!
Before the island warriors had shown up, he'd been trying to find some drinking water. Moored on the island after his cruise ship had run into a bit of pirate trouble, he was stranded without a hope to escape.
The sight of Keith had perked him up a bit, thinking maybe he could bum a ride in whatever contraption the surfer had used to GET to the island in the first place. But, with all that sand and Sambuca and whatnot, our handsome Scot knew it would be QUITE SOME TIME before Keith would be even THINKING about leaving the newfound paradise. So, off he set into the island foliage, determined to find some fresh water and some berries or something so he didn't starve to death while Keith was demonstrating his prowess.
On the waves.
The sun was high in the sky now and George was starting to perspire. He loosened the buttons on his collared shirt (he HAD been right in the middle of a set when the pirates showed up) and ran his hand up the back of his neck and over his shiny head to flick off the sweat.
He finally found an island stream. The water was pure and clean and tasted divine on his lips! Who knew you could work up such a sweat fending off pretty girls? He finally had the chance to look around and just enjoy the beauty of the island for a moment. If he ever got off the thing, he'd love to bring the family back to somewhere like this for some time away. It was gorgeous!
A sound caught his attention and he looked up, cocking his head to listen more intently.
What WAS that- that- well, he wasn't sure what to call it? But, it was getting closer and louder.
Suddenly, a man came CRASHING through the trees above, swinging on a vine, giving a monstrosity of a Tarzan yell. He leaped from his swing to stand widelegged in front of George, shoulders thrust back, grinning, quite pleased with himself. "Here I come to save the day!!!!" he crowed.
"Ryan! What are you, Mighty Mouse??" George exclaimed. "What the heck? Where are all you guys COMING from?? And, what are you... wearing?"
Ryan looked down at his attire and asked "What do you mean? Sharon picked this out for me special! I mean, I added a few changes, but..." Ryan pivoted to show off his new duds.
His legs, tanned from the sun and muscular from all that crazy running around, stood bare against the green of the island ferns. A mere loincloth covered what needed to be covered, and curiously, atop, he wore a black dress shirt, buttoned clear from top to bottom, his sleeves pushed so low, his hands seemed to disappear from view.
George cleared his throat and offered, "Well... I mean I get the whole Tarzan concept, Ryan. But the shirt? Really?"
Ryan kicked a pebble near his feet self-consciously and mumbled, "I have issues. Do you want off this island or not?"
George held up his hands, "Alright, alright, don't get testy. I would LOVE off this island!" Ryan began to grab onto the vine he'd swung in on, but George stopped him. "Umm... what are you doing?"
Ryan looked confused. "I thought you wanted off the island?"
George replied, "I do, I do. But, look. I don't dance. I don't swanky walk. And I DO. NOT. swing on vines."
His dark companion raised an eyebrow and muttered to himself, "And they say I have issues..." He spoke aloud "Ok, ok... we'll do it the hard way. There are many dangers that lurk on this island, though, George. So, keep your eyes open."
"I can take them!" George claimed bravely, and off the two sauntered into the underbrush. "Umm, Ryan? Where are we going, exactly? Shouldn't we be going toward the beach? You know, to get... OFF the island?"
Ryan shook his head sadly, "Oh George, you have so little faith! I am a GREAT navigator! Just don't ask me what ocean my country sits on. Stay close."
With that, Ryan turned and was snatched up by a giant ferocious plant, which flung him high in the air as it batted him across the sky. As he flew, Ryan called out "Stay on your guard!!! And watch out for....."
But whatever George was supposed to watch out for was lost in the wind. "Great!!!!" George yelled. "NOW what do I do???" He sat down on a rock to wait for what would happen next....