The Survivor

    The bad news is that we’d been waylaid by some African pirates. The good news, that instead of killing us, they just cut us with their knives a few times each and left us to die on a raft at sea.
    As we join my story, I’m hungry and trying to convince the rest of the survivors that we should probably kill and eat Doug who, I thought long before the pirates ever even boarded the ship, looked pretty tasty--”Look at his fat face,” I heard myself saying. “Imagine how tender that meat must be.”
    The rest of the survivors looked at me in disgust. Doug chimed in that he had snuck a box of energy bars aboard, that there were twelve of them, easily enough to keep us alive for maybe a week if we ate strategically. “Shut up, Doug,” I told him, which sounds harsh. But by that point, I had had enough of his one-upsmanship-- “We shouldn’t slow down to see what these pirates want, we should drive to safety;” “we shouldn’t grab all the booze, we should grab food, supplies and water;” “we shouldn’t eat me, we should eat these energy bars, here.”
    “And another thing,” I said, “Who the fuck likes energy bars?”
    Doug stared at me blankly, and I drank some of the whiskey I had brought.
    “You really shouldn’t,” said Doug. “Alcohol is a natural diuretic.”
    “Alcohol is a natural diuretic,” I said in a stupid voice, to mock Doug.
    “It’ll dehydrate you, and you’ll die.”
    “I’m going to eat your fat face,” I said, quietly.
    “What?”
    “Nothing, stupid.”
    We pretty much just floated around for a few hours, and, with nothing but the ocean to look at, I sipped my whiskey and mentally undressed Molly, the only female on board. When that got boring, when I grew tired of her nagging--”Stop staring at me;” “Honey, say something;” “Pervert!”--I passed out in my own considerable filth.
    Of course, I didn’t recall dreaming what with the boozin’, but apparently, I had--vividly so.
    I woke up to Molly and her husband’s faces, stricken with terror, staring out at the sea, which was red now. “What’s with the red sea?” I asked. They told me that, in my sleep, I had been thrashing around and knocked Doug overboard. A group of great white sharks then tore him to bits while the couple watched in terror. There was more, but I drifted back to sleep.
    The second time I woke up, the happy couple was gone. Knocked overboard by my thrashing, I suppose. Anyway, no point in dwelling on the past, so I enjoyed an energy bar. Then the coast guard saved me. Nice bunch, those coast guard types. They gave me some hot wings.