Bottom of my 'art

New Blog -

2010-07-30T16:26:00.000-07:00

Okay, this is officially my last post for Bottom of my 'art. I have a new blog called The White Honeysuckle and I plan to keep it updated. go to: http://sarahmcmillen.tumblr.com/

Hope to see you there!

2009-06-24T19:26:00.000-07:00

If you want to follow a more interesting blog... meaning, one that actually posts, check out my brother's: danielmcmillen.com
savvy?

My writing has been much too lengthy to post here, so I'm afraid it will remain rather vacant.

My last RE from FAT year: Beware

2008-02-15T19:57:00.001-08:00

Reflection Essay

June 1, 2007

Word Count: 362

What is Adventure and do we need Adventure in our lives?

Adventure is sought out by many people; some seek it as a necessary aspect of their lives, while others are set in their ways and fear change. It is a sense of expectation as change occurs, as the future unravels before one’s eyes. Huck Finn lives out his own personal adventure: “He moves with the wind, goes where he pleases, and in doing so, has what so many people romanticize about” (Sarah’s Book of Wisdom and Wittitry, 1049). Strangely enough, the common idea of adventure is glossed and shiny. The rough edges have been smoothed, and the onlooker may be safe while experiencing second hand the actions of others. When one is actually immersed in one’s own adventure, the out look is very different. It is not so glamorous. It can be painful. It can cause any manner of negative or positive emotion. In the example of Huck Finn, one may see a boy floating down a river, surrounded by all forms of adventure. He believes that he needs it in his life to keep from being strangled and suffocated by society.

Is adventure truly a necessary component to the lives of citizens and the like? It seems to be an unavoidable occurrence, in the normal lives of normal people, who have normal jobs with normal cats as pets. Even flying monkeys have adventures. Frogs probably do as well. Some people hibernate throughout their entire lives, and thus never have any adventures ever; unless they are in their dreams. They are pathetic. Peter, the boy with the last name Pan, was a great advocate of the adventurous rights movement. One could say that he was a radical: “Especially adventures within which one kills pirates and wild animals” he said to me one summer day on the sweet little province of the land which will never be. To such people, such as the one mentioned before, as in, fore mentioned, adventure is that which cannot be done without, or else death will ensue due to the stagnation of the blood. The blood will become stagnant when inactivity sets in, like a bee trapped in the flower from which it was… eating?

Tea Cup Bri: An Epic Journey

2007-08-30T21:02:00.000-07:00

Okay, all of the color coating died when I copied and pasted this into a blog post. Christina M. Brian D. and I wrote this a sentence at a time, switching back and forth, and I am not going to bother going through the entire thing again in order to show who wrote what. A pity, but ah well. Life goes on ^_^

Once upon a time a little Brian, the size of a tea cup, was imagining what it would be like to live under the sea. First he began to wonder what faerie would give him such great powers. Would it be Undine, the killer of hapless princes? Or Tinker Bell, the jealous sprite who gains her power from the almighty Taco Bell? Undoubtedly, Undine wouldn’t kill a teacup sized boy, so with great ire and spite, he journeyed off to the secret river in which Undine dwells. But first he punched the vending machine which spitefully dispensed a sprite. Of course you must know that this was no ordinary sprite…but a sprite with the map to the secret river, because naturally, most cans of sprite carry strange maps, but very few lead to the secret river. After acquiring the freakishly awesome can Brian then headed into the sunset. The next morning, he was very tired from the lack of sleep (naturally, when you go into the sunset, you don’t get much sleep). Nevertheless he continued on his way. His first encounter was with a smelly, one-eyed, bearded yak worshiper, who looked at him and said, “O boyus! Dost thou burpum? Or perhaps belcha?” Scared out if his mind by the disgustingly, disturbing and what seemed to be creature-ish looking appendage hanging out of the ghastly creature’s mouth, He asked, “Are you a ghoul?” There was only one way to find out, so he grabbed a big stick and lobbed it at her head, “Woe ist mea!” cried the smelly, one eyed, bearded yak worshiper. “How in the world can I tell you if I’m one of *whispers* them, if you bludgeon me! Just ask nicely and maybe I won’t kill you yet with a proposal of marriage. However, you must ask the right question, lest ye die.’ With a deceptive gleam in his eye, he gradually lowered down on one knee, picked up a stick, and said, “Will you marry me?” As she rushed forward with glee, he knocked her cold with a hefty swing. “Apparently she really is a one-eyed, bearded yak worshiper.” Brian then wandered off to the conveniently placed watering hole, where he saw the peaceful looking Simba and through to himself, “Finally, someone nice!” Little did he know what was about to take place. The peaceful, fuzzy and cuddly exterior hid a heart of passionate and desperate evil. His façade was ripped apart as he roared awake and pounced. Brian only just managed to roll aside and crawl into a gopher hole. Shivering with fear and dripping with slobber he frantically ventured deeper into the dark and dreary black abyss. Suddenly, he thought, “ew, slobber! Where did this come from? I’ll have none of it!” And with that, the slobber vanished! At the sudden vaporization of the disgusting saliva, Brian gasped. What happened? Did he have his own personal powers? Or was it just his imagination? In fact it was neither! While escaping from the ferocious Simba he didn’t notice the snoring gopher blowing nasty morning breath his way, and acting as a very effective hair dryer. He sighed with disappointment and moved on. He thought to himself, “How will I ever get out of this hole?” When all of a sudden he remembered the sprite can in his hand. He opened it with a pop, and out came a little faerie that shoved a little piece of paper up his nose and vanished with an explosion of carbonated fizz. Feeling a bit exhausted from his journey so far, he decided to sit down and drink the sprite. Afterwards, he picked his nose and out came the map. It was kind of really disgusting and revolting, so he wiped the bogies onto the gopher, who just snored and rolled over. Slowly and cautiously, Brian crawled out of the hole and back to Simba’s watering hole. Upon his resurfacing, he promptly shouted, “hakuna mattata!” and simba declared, “No worries, bro!” With that, Brian continued on his journey. By now the sun had risen and was blasting evil words at him saying “I shan’t let you continue on your journey!” Rather distraught, Brian shouted back a challenge, and then ran like the wind. Luckily for him, the sun and the wind were in an argument, so the North East South West wind ran with him and blew him to a dark forest, on the edge of which stood a sign which read, “WARNING: car exhaust is hazardous to health” He thought to himself, “If I’m ever big enough to have health, I’ll remember that.” With that he walked into the forest. Soon he found a big mushroom to sit on, and he pulled out the map. Gleaming with delight, he saw that he was not too far from his destination. However, Brian had to first to cross Lickety Split No Bananas Lava Lava highway! WITH NO TOOTSIE ROLLS!! If only he could cross safely, but without tootsie rolls that would be terribly difficult. But wait! He was too little to have health, so why worry? Thus, he began to think of a candy that he could use to get across the dreaded highway. “There are skittles, starbursts, M&Ms…GUMMY WORMS AND BEARS!” He thought to himself, “I can throw the bears at the speeding cars and run across!” So he began to throw the gummy bears at the cars with all his might. But because he was so small, his gummy bears were naturally proportionate to his body size, so they did not stop the cars. However, they did form a sort of gummy pathway across Lickity Split No Bananas Lava Lava highway! He cautiously stepped across and was not stuck in the goo even once. When across, he heard the gurgling and chuckling of a river. “Yes!” He thought, “I’m almost to the river of Undine… but how shall I ever see the way to the river in this dark and dreary forest?” Hastily searching his mind, he remembered the sprite can and thought, “I can use it as a reflector.” So he held out the can and smiled from ear to ear so that the shine from his teeth reflected on the can and lit the way! Slowly, he crept through the ghastly forest, making his way closer and closer to the gurgling and chuckling. Suddenly, a melodic voice called out, and he saw a beautiful lady coming out of the water and gesturing to him welcomingly. “Ah, little squirrel, come drink of my waters.” Quoth she. Spellbound, he slowly yet cautiously walked towards the lady but was taken aback when he saw a majestic crocodile come out of the water. With an Australian accent, he said, “What a beauty! How shall I know which one is Undine? I know, I’ll decide this the logical way. Bubble gum, bubble gum in a dish, how many pieces do you wish?“ The majestic crocodile responded, “Four!” in his grunt like speech. The lady called out angrily, “This is certainly not logical!” Brian paused, “ah, you are rather very full of a little much of wisdom, you must be Undine!” The crocodile licked his chops, and walked towards Brian, but Undine sent him away. Pleased to have found the true Undine, he went over to her and began to speak when wall of a sudden his main objective vanished from his mind. Quite embarrassed, he said to her, “dear Undine, my deepest apologies! I have traveled for so long and through so many perils, that I have forgotten my whole purpose in coming! Oh my, the dangers I have faced! First the vending machine, then the yak worshiper, then the watering hole and Simba, then the gopher’s hole, without Winnie the Pooh, mind you, then the sun and the wind, then Lickity Split No Bananas Lava Lava Highway, then the forest, and now you!” He sighed an exasperated sigh and looked like he was about to cry. Undine shook her head and looked on poor little Brian and said, “Now what is the moral of this story?” He answered, “Never go on a journey that is longer than your wish!”

New Blog

2007-08-16T22:01:00.000-07:00

Hello dears, I am proud to announce that I have a new blog. It is shared between the self proclaimed Muses: Lizzy, Heather and I. We someday want to join all of our talents into one place, where we can build good community and comfortable studying grounds. I find it to be very exciting, because it reminds me of the part in "A Severe Mercy," where the Vanaukens are living in Oxford, and live in the studio, where their friends come over every evening or so to discuss, chat, and fellowship together. So, in our blog we will be brainstorming about this little dream of ours. Tis ever so lovely.

Ah, also, sorry about the rather ugly/ewwie/undeignified/dull state of my blog. I am messing with template, color, and I must find a good pic.

-Sarah

YAY!

2007-08-08T22:31:00.000-07:00

I got a lovely lappy!! Its name is Ada Rose, and it has pretty buttons... and is shiny. and new. and happy. it has little specialness, and yayness..... whee!

-The Sarah

Post-It Note Originated Story

2007-08-08T17:03:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, a thoughtful little boy gazed deeply into the night sky and upon the face of the moon. The longer he looked, the more he wondered. So the boy eventually asked; “Dear Moon, how did you become so beautiful and grand?” The wonderful lady who is the moon liked the look of the boy, as he stood with his hands deep in his pockets, frank curiosity on his face, and awe in his eyes. Carefully pulling her long dark tresses over her shoulder, she lent down to whisper her secret to him. As she did so, an angry gale nearly knocked the boy down into the deep grasses, urgently cutting its winding path. It whipped away her words and hurled them into the dark. They flew so far that they caught in the deep blue net above their heads and twinkled there. The moon helped steady the boy on his feet as the wind passed, and slowly looked up to see her words shining unintelligibly in the heavens. The boy desperately hoped that she would repeat that precious phrase, but she did not. She grew pale as the sun cast a fiery glance over the horizon and stood straight again. The boy attempted to grasp her hand as she receded back to her place of watchfulness, but he found that it faded to the point of vanishing. Her pale face flickered when the greater light overtook her and her stars winked out. The boy stood and watched the sun take her place in the heavens, then turned and walked home. He never uttered one word about the meeting to anyone, but wondered evermore.

At the Scene of the Battle

2007-06-04T10:44:00.000-07:00

Straining with nervous tension, two armies faced each other at the opposite ends of a low valley. Breaths of cool morning air played with the banners and flags, which flew bravely, snapping this way and that with vigor. The wind touched the hard faces of the men with a gentle caress, but could not divert these grim statues. The sickening panic of fear threatened to rise within each, but no betrayal of such was expressed. Stone faces such as these, were hardened by pride.
The line to the east had a decided advantage, for the sun rose behind then, dazzling the eyes of their enemies. The standards that this army held aloft bore the image of a black griffin on a field of red. The riders in the company of the griffin were mounted upon great chargers, which pawed eagerly at the earth. The archers waited with an arrow fitted to the string. The lines were straight and ready to rush forward upon the issuing of one sound. The birds sang. A horse whinnied impatiently. Even the sound of a small honey bee reached their ears, which were straining for the signal. They waited… waited. It came. Suddenly, the tension broke as they flooded down to the fierce blaring of a trumpet. A war cry arose in every throat, as they rode either to victory or the grave.
Galloping recklessly before the company of the griffin was a young rider. His armor reflected the glory of the sun, and his horse looked like a storm cloud about to burst forth in wrath, a dark and brooding grey. If any of his comrades had seen his face as he rode ahead, they would have been shocked by his fierce demeanor, covered by an injured pride, blood thirsty for revenge. His face was overshadowed by hate. Sweat beaded up on his brow, which was furrowed with ghastly determination. Any fear that he must have felt before that final plunge was left far behind, as he thundered down the slope. Taking over the empty place of fear, surged an unrelenting fire if spirit. It pushed away dear hope as well as dark despair; nothing stood between him and his goal: the death of traitors.
As the waves of men broke upon each other, the battle began. Mingled with the sounds of men shouting out, horses screamed shrilly into the clear air, and steel clashed against steel. Glistening in the sun, the young man’s sword did its work with terrifying finesse. He charged so ruthlessly into the fray that he broke out again on the opposite side. As he checked his steed and turned back to the fight, an arrow sang. The charger screamed with chilling agony, as the fatal dart lodged deep into its side. Stumbling and flailing about, the prideful animal fell upon the turf. The rider leapt free from its back and found his footing upon solid ground, while the world swam about him. He paused. Stampeding through the valley of swords had not left him entirely unscathed. A burning cut on his cheek dribbled down, and hot blood was seeping into his sleeve from a stroke just below the shoulder. With burning coals glowing deep in his dark eyes, he brought his hand slowly to wipe his cheek. He looked at it a moment. Turning his eyes to the fight, he smeared the red liquid fire in the other side of his face, and fingered what was left on his hand. A deep bellowing voice caused his hand to lower, and his eyes to search for a friendly face. A comrade, who had also been dethroned from his steed, staggered to him with a crushed, barely serviceable foot, which undoubtedly was brought about by the fall of his heavy animal. The bite of pain that coursed up his leg spurred on a heavy, yet eager attitude. The young man wiped his bloodied hand and they met. The man rumbled with the morbid chuckle of an old soldier ready to meet his death, and stood tall.
“For our beautiful land we fight; for the King!”
“For the King, for our land, and for our dear ones – be they still living – we fight!”
With the greatest cry that their hoarse voices could muster, the two men, tightly grasping their swords, returned to the battle with a vengeance.

Of Rain and Sunshine

2007-04-29T16:14:00.000-07:00

The tears do turn the skies dark grey
Still dripping down the dreary day
The pat-pat-patter sounds around,
And glistens, splatters on the ground.
.
And patiently subdued sits she,
The Sun who rests while rock and tree
Are cleansed of grime without delay
On this, a dark and gloomy day.
.
The billows have self-conscious gleams
See there! Far beyond rainy streams
A prick of light is growing fast,
It curls round floating mountains vast.
.
Do look and laugh with cheery grin
Upon the farce, façade, and din.
Mischievous smiles attempt to hide
Behind the clouds where sunbeams stride.

Entertain this thought....

2007-02-02T07:56:00.000-08:00

It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.
Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC)

Ignoble Noble

2007-01-10T19:44:00.000-08:00

A rather random bit of writing this is. I have been asked to post again, so i have ^_^

The ignoble noble rushed onto the stage-like dais to greet his beloved lover. He was sent to sit with the select nobles who were great favorites with the king. Here, he would be trusted and respected. His lady stood waiting for him with her eyes sparkling. A sad, yet preferable obstacle intervened his path; the king’s royal foot, which happened to be very large in proportion to his massive body. Roars of raucous laughter poured through the hall as he fell with a confused look of slight indigestion and embarrassment. If you have not seen this before, do not even try. I shall explain in due time. Let the slow motion begin. First, his left foot comes in contact with that of the king. His eyes roll down and his face follows. A Gasp thrills his body has he is flung into the air by his own forward motion. He glances forward at his beloved lover, and then sideways at the jolly rabble splitting their fat sides with laughter.
He is pondering how on earth this could happen to him, and why on earth he had neglected to observe the king’s gigantic foot. Commence confusion. Immediately preceding the incident, he had been eating a strange concoction from the royal kitchen, which had not settled in his stomach very comfortably. His face scrunches. Commence indigestion. In looking at his lady fair, he feel brought low by fate, coincidence, and his ill luck. What is that? She is laughing too! Hiding a snicker and suppressing a laugh behind a small hand. Commence embarrassment.
At the time that his face compacted in response to the floor, he wasn’t thinking about anything. Rolling over, he got up and staggered over to his lady. He sat sulkily. The lady whispered a few words of consolation as she wiped off his dirty, smashed face with her handkerchief. No response; he sat in silence. As the laughter subsided, it was replaced with clinks of steins and muffled grunts. The noble gloomily repeated negative nothings over and over, while playing absent mindedly with the fifth course. He was a very extreme young fellow.
As was tradition at this particular feast, all the nobles with the honor of being selected to sit at the table next to the king and queen were to give toasts. Suddenly the lady nudged him. It was his turn. Collectedly, he rose. Slowly and majestically, he paused for extra emphasis to make up for his earlier blunder. The low roar of voices ceased.
“My dear countrymen, neighbors, comrades, I wish to make a toast to our valiant king and honorable queen.”
A greater pause ensued for more emphasis to make up doubly for the earlier blunder. Possibly it was because he forgot what he was going to say. The king leaned forward in his throne as well as he could and gave the noble a black look. Gulp. The young man paled;
“May they live long in great prosperity.” An over used phrase at that time, but always well received. All took a hearty draught from their steins and goblets, or whatever they were accommodated with. Forgiving him for his long pause, the crowd called;
“Boer! Boer! Boer!” For that was his name. Some impudent knaves in the corner added simultaneously, “Boer – ing!” and ducked very quickly. Ignoring this as best he could, Boer sat down with knocking knees and endured the rest of the feast tolerably well.

Women at a Window

2006-11-07T19:01:00.000-08:00

Samantha's Myth

2006-09-18T21:56:00.000-07:00

Midst the wave of splendor before a storm, Samantha Findale reflected on the beautiful sky as she walked to her grandparents’ house, which was to be all hers for two weeks. Welling up to her right; the dark, restless clouds rippled in the sky. They muttered of forthcoming oppression. The sun created a striking contrast by facing the darkness with a stunning blue sky, which was melting on the verge of the gloaming. She shone bright in defiance of the oncoming battle. The trees were green with the life of spring and looked cheerful, though the solid armies behind crouched in wait. For now, all was peaceful. Samantha ambled on with a large book in her hand and a backpack over her shoulders. It seemed that once the sun set, the storm would strike. The only force countering the attack was the sharp vibrancy pressing against the clouds. It was a lost cause. The sun was falling through the horizon...

The Moon

2006-08-15T13:03:00.000-07:00

The mournful moon shines bright and bold,
Over a cold and dismal world.
All moonbeams curse the darkened street,
Which fills with rabble who secreatly meet.

The patient moon shines bright and bold.
Three friends will quarrel tonight all told.
They bicker and fight till end of night,
Then wish all day to make it right.

The joyful moon shines bright and bold.
His shining eyes both peirce the world.
They find in the destruction and the strife,
The grace and truth which gather life.

Mirror

2006-07-25T12:48:00.000-07:00

She looked back to see herself
Walking away from the mirror.
The mirror of worlds which
In its power caused pain.
The erasing of the spirit had begun
So she walked away forever.
The door between them closed,
And a fresh new day began.
Her step grew steadily lighter.
She laughed for the joy of freedom.

Embrace the Wind

2006-03-29T08:55:00.000-08:00

Inspired by the glorious beauty of a wonderful day.........

Embrace the wind,
Kiss the breeze,
Jump down rocks,
Climb up trees.

Speak in truth,
Act with grace
Shine a smile
Upon a face

Live for joy
Live for death
Die in peace
Death to life

Walk the path
Long and strait
Gain the strength
Abandon hate

Love the sun
Strong and bright
It’s sharp shards
Carry light

Pirates

2006-03-26T18:06:00.000-08:00

This is not like other tales, which begin and end with calm happy places, because storms are not happy. Enjoy the tale if you are able to, and I sincerely hope you will live to hear another. With an ‘ar’ and a ‘humph’ and a jolly shout of glee I wish you a good morning.

And here it be:
Joe Croaker, infamous pirate and all around good egg, rushed on deck. The storm swelled to such an alarming degree that every hand was called. On the Vengeance, no mercy was issued. The waves broke over the helm looking frighteningly ghostlike in the night. Each time they seemed to grow in height and velocity. The wind and rain tore through the mast which the sailors hurriedly fisted. Joe stumbled on deck through the open doorway and glanced about wildly as the rain pelted down. The first mate growled at him:
“Get down with yer fellers old man and pump the water! It is leaking in faster ‘n I should like in this storm. Be gone ye bonehead!”
Followed by curses, Joe leapt down the stairs once more. This time with a speed that made one doubt the gray of his head. It sprinkled his hair and covered his temples which were marked with ever deepening crows feet. In the bottom of the ship, water sloshed about, attempting to knock him off balance.
“There ain’t no hope down here Croaker! The men an’ me beens working, but the water keeps a’comin an’ grows about our shaking knees. Soon we will be a’swimmin! Davy Jones has got us now he has, there ain’t no escaping him. There ain’t!” Billy Boils, a friend on land and sea, stumbled towards him weary and fatigued.
“The Vengeance ain’t worth two pence now. Especially after all the trouble she gave a fortnight ago. We two must dive off before the storm tears us apart!”
They hastily checked to see if their earrings of gold were in their place. They tightened their worn belts and fought their way back up the stairs. Once more on the deck, they headed to the rail. Loose barrels, flying ropes, scrambling men, and crashing waves hindered their way; accompanied by roaring, creaking, groaning, and frantic shouts. Upon reaching their destination, they stopped, looked at each other and nodded their heads resolutely. "Better to go to Davy Jones than to be sent to him." Billy Boils thought to himself while reflecting on the legends that he himself had helped pass on to the younger generation of sailors. The two old seabirds leapt overboard.

As they were tossed by the waves, the two found each other again. Holding fast, they yelled between swells. Suddenly they released and sunk beneath the spray and foam, lower and lower, until the water was somewhat peaceful as they fell to the depths. Billy looked up at the ship battling far above. Croaker wondered how far they would descend. Within the next few moments they reached the ocean floor. The white sand was only visible as a light glow, and all other objects about were dark shadows.
“Will he wait till day to find us?” Joe asked in a husky whisper.
“No, I don’t reckon so, though I never did meet a man spared by ‘im.”
"We might as well walk to find ‘im" thought they, because they knew that as sure as they had mothers that he would find them. The men walked and walked along the ocean floor. They walked and ambled and walked and frolicked about in their heartless pirate ways. Miles slipped by, the storm overhead ceased, and the sun peeked into the blue dome overhead. The sea life around them turned from dark ominous shapes to bright vegetation and slick fish. Beautiful creatures swam curiously in circles around them then left on their way. From behind a large rock a beautiful mermaid swam. Her bright red hair flowed behind her. Extending her arms towards them, she sang one very, very, high sour note. A shark rushed her and pushed her behind another rock. Croaker and Boils exchanged confused glances and shrugged their shoulders.

Soon a forest of seaweed opened up to their left. They tramped several years in, and crumpled into two heaps as the world grew dark around them.

Joe woke first and saw feet. They were not Boils’ big boots. He kicked Boils and scrambled up. Before them was the legendary Davy Jones, the master of drowning men’s fate, or of drowned men’s fate. He carried with him a great chest in his eternally rotting hands. A long black beard floated across his shoulder, uncovering a tattoo and many battle scars on his chest from when blood pumped through his veins bringing life. His hard eyes fixed first on Billy.
“Dogs! Ye have entered my land of death for men, where be ye headed?” he growled.
“We be headed towards land and life, sir.” said Boils.
“Pay the price and I will set ye free. But if ye do not have it, then ye know none can save ye here while in my clutches.”
The men lowered their eyes while removing their gold earings and then held them out with trembling hands. Davy Jones dropped his chest and took them while the men recoiled from his touch. A hand dove at the throat of each, and lifted them off the sand.
“Ye shall tell no man of this meeting. The words will catch in your throat and all that will escape your lips will be a small snake. He will climb down your arm and bite your hand with pison fangs. The light of day will last in yer eyes a mere ten minutes before death comes.”
With that the man, either phantom or demon disappeared from sight and the weeds shivered in disgust. Croaker and Boils began to float in the current as consciousness left them.

Joe woke when his head knocked against something hard and rough. He groaned and pulled himself up to his knees while supporting himself with the gritty wall. He stood and looked up. A huge statue, a huge head of rock leaned over him. Using it again, he stumbled away from the water. Glancing around, he saw a jungle in front, and more heads of stone were lined down the beach. About a hundred yards away Billy Boils was also toiling across the sand. Joe hollered to him,
“Boils! Boils!”
Billy looked around and they ran to each other as fast as they could on wobbly legs. When they met they continued to shout.
“We made it! We live again!”
“Old Davy Jones couldn’t keep us down!”
They rejoiced in their good fortune and congratulated each other on their wit and wisdom. They built a fire on the beach and spent a nice holiday there. They taught the monkeys to gather coconuts. Altogether they did not harm anyone with their pirate-ish ways since no one else lived there. (At least that they knew of) All was glorious and very adventurous. They fashioned little martini glasses cut out of hard, interestingly shaped substances and drank with small pieces of pineapple in their glasses stabbed with the three inch long thorns of the great trees in the center of the island. They found how to mix exotic drinks and tamed the parrots so that they sat on their shoulders.
Everything was happy… Until another fateful day when a storm came a-blowin! A great voice called from the heavens:
“Muahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!”