Living Island

I see some of you have enjoyed your venture into attempted mass-murder, cross-dressing, bondage, and hypothetical polygamy.  How I wish I was there to witness the havoc!

 Instead, I have resided in a cave for the past five days.  Believing that both the narcolepsy and laughing fits were gone, and I saw no harm in continuing my search for the Island.  Perhaps scaling the cliffs so soon after my recovery from the laughing fits was a misstep.  I woke at the mouth of a cave to someone singing, or to be more precise, somethings singing.  Gaudy pastel sea horses.

 I soon learned that every time a living thing falls into the water at this section of the cliffs, they rescue it while singing a song for an excruciating minute and a half, telling it to “count upon the sea ponies.”  I present you with a recording of this monstrosity.  Yesterday, a tribe of lemmings arrived at the edge of the cliff.  Are you aware how maddening it is to endure that song EVERY time those heinous rodents push one of their own off the precipice?!  

However, every time I try to leave, some force of nature prevents me from escaping.  I began to climb back up the cliff, only to have a rockslide hinder my ascent.  Even the rockslide right over their cove did not exterminate them!  When I try to swim to another portion of the island, the pastel monstrosities block my way.  On the other hand, I was able to steal one of the oars they use as props in their musical number.

At last, they are asleep.  I can finally make my escape.

Oh, and Island, you can take your beef jerky and shove it up your arse!

 Before I could examine the boat, a huge tidal wave hit me and washed me off to sea.  When the current carried me a few hundred metres, I heard a voice say “nuh-uh-uh,” as though admonishing a child.  Not two seconds later, I hit… nothing.  An invisible barrier of sorts.  Suddenly, I heard a tune… two notes repeating over and over again.  I saw a dorsal fin head directly towards me.  As the shark neared the boat, the music became louder and louder.  Then, large jaws clamped around my torso.

 The fight wasn’t long.  I tore out part of its gills.  However, I lost consciousness before I could watch it bleed to death.

 When I woke again, I was back on shore.  I saw that somebody left an unlabelled backpack with a portable computer, a flashlight, and a canteen.  I turned on the computer to see who owned it.  Then, I would find the owner and make him tell me how to leave this place.  I was surprised to find the items were for me.

 According to the computer, I am to help a group of people make a meal out of a swan’s egg?  What tripe is this?  For starters, who is this “Island” and how does he know my name?  Perhaps he’s one of those Watchers that the traitor told me about, but they are only glorified peeping toms.  Watchers can’t be capable of spontaneous tsunamis, invisible barriers and musical sharks…

 …

 …and a telephone pole-sized statue with an erection equal in size to its height.  I have never seen a tribe that used a method like this for deforestation.

 Anyway, I will find you, “Island,” and for your sake, you had better tell me how to return to Seacover!  If you do, you will only die for your previous efforntery.  I have places to go and a certain person to decapitate.  Revenge waits for no one!