Sea Monkeys

Wherein We Have A Meeting

2006-06-12T22:47:00.000-07:00

Word got out that our jolly-ish pirates were to meet in broad daylight by a particular, yellow fire-hydrant in Huntington Beach State Park. So, they all made their way.

Ellen was waiting, sitting on the lawn with a sketch-pad. When the other girls walked up, she exclaimed,
"Oh, Jane, Alex, I'm so glad you're here! I thought you'd been kidnapped."
Everyone sat down.
Hilary was slightly miffed:
"What about me? Didn't you worry that somebody kidnapped me?"
Alex: "Why would anybody kidnap you?"
"Oh, I guess you're right."
Hilary cut up some apples and pulled out a half-eaten round of Gouda. Ellen started eating the cheese with a knife, and etc.
Jane thought for a quick moment, and said, "Wait, why wouldn't anyone kidnap her?"
Ellen explained, "She dies for noble causes. It's not a financially sure situation. On the other hand, you're just a kid, so somebody would pay your ransom; and Alex would pay her own ransom. Well anyway, firstmate, any plans?"
Jane optimistically and energetically exclaimed,
"I think we should find a new way to GET RICH QUICK!"
Ellen sighed, "I suppose we'll have to resort to piracy again. We don't have experience in anything else."
Alex spoke disdainfully to the fire hydrant, "But we've lost all our assets--the ship's gone, and our booty from Madagascar was stolen and/or drowned."
Hilary: "How can we be pirates without a ship? I think we should have a meeting about this."
Jane: "Yea! Let's meet! A secret council!"
Alex/Ellen: "We are."

There was a general pause. Jane was a little put out. Hilary wasn't over the kidnapped thing. Alex really wanted some new books. Ellen felt the need to break the tension of conflicting wills by settling the most obvious problem:
"My worthy pirates and fiendish companions, I think we can go on being pirates even though our ship sank."
Hilary, quizzically and doubtfully: "Isn't that kind of unorthodox? We need a ship to really be pirates."
Ellen sighed again. I'm not going to say what I'm thinking, she thought. "We'll just have to be creative. I know it doesn't mean as much to you without a ship, and that you might have trouble getting into character without that critical prop, but this will be a test in flexibility and adapting to new situations. And I do think it is time we branched out. This whole hit and run thing lacks a bit of class, and there might be moral issues at hand."

Alex moved to the plane of practicality: "What should we steal? How about books?"
Ellen: "Whatever, that won't get us money--books don't make money!"
Jane: "Unless you write them."
Hilary: "Alex why don't you just write one?"
Alex: "Because that takes effort and intentionality. I'm not really ready for that level of commitment at this point in my life."
Ellen: "Guys! Remember the moral issues? We have to figure out this stealing thing."
Jane: "WHATEVER! LET'S GET RICH QUICK!"

Unfortunately, Alex and Hilary started experiencing a load of guilt, the desert-fathers level of guilt, the sort that makes one do bread and water and no sleep for a year or so. Lots of self-flagellation. 'Not stealing' was a commandment, after all.

Jane was not to be perturbed, and started noticing her surroundings more. "Swings! Oh, I'm going over there for a bit, O.K.?"

That essentially adjourned the meeting.

Log Date Entry: 11 June 2006

2006-06-11T23:47:00.000-07:00

Note to self: what's the point of this log if our ship sank?

I'll explain that I am obsessive compulsive and incredibly neurotic; consequently I cannot prevent myself from keeping this shiply journal. It's psychology. Aside from those other maladies, I tend towards insomniatic, again explaining why I am awake to write this.

I am sitting in Starbucks (not in the ship) drinking a white chocolate mocha latte that I bought with an almost expired gift-card I aquired from a distant relative last Christmas. I'll just say it beats that tea stuff Ellen makes.

Well, location and present situation covered (mine, anyway), here's an inventory:

My stuff's fine. I packed in five minutes while we were being broke by that evil sea-monster. (I'm the only one who ever has everything in order--that's why they made me secretary.)

On the brief walk from my lifeboat, across the beach, to the other side of the pacific highway, and into Starbucks, I noticed numorous possessions belonging to Ellen, Jane, and Hilary. Also a good deal of driftwood, shredded canvas, first-aid kit, and those life-saver things. (I counted them, and they were all there--which means none of the girls used them. I suppose I won't buy those for us again. A complete waste.)

Side note: I'm not cleaning it up. People should clean up their own messes. I'll probably track down those pirates who attacked us with the sea-monster to pick up the shipwreck, and then get the girls to take care of their things. If they don't want their things they can at least take them to the Goodwill. People should be responsible, and it's not my job to be responsible for them.

As for the crew, I have no idea where they are at the moment. Hopefully no one is dead. I have this feeling that Jane had a few days left on her Disneyland pass, and she probably went to Disneyland. We haven't been in L.A. since Christmas, so no one would be able to stop her from just taking off. She can't help it sometimes. I don't blame her; I can't help a lot of the things I do.

Conclusive status: I am fine, all my things are fine: everyone and everything else is in utter chaos.
Situation: normal.
Moral: high.
Finances: devastated.

After I check into a hotel and have a good night's rest, I will set out to the meeting point that will no doubt be arranged by Ellen.

Alex.

The communication
Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.

In Which Hilary and Jane Take a Walk on the Beach

2006-06-09T22:46:00.000-07:00

Jane: Hilary, I can't find the dinner platter.
Hilary: Just keep looking; I'm sure it will turn up. We really should find Ellen.
Jane: Hey look! It's the spinny-teeth part of the juicer. I think all of our things are all over this beach. Which beach is this one, anyway?
Hilary: I'm pretty sure it's Huntington, because of all the ashes in the sand...too bad we weren't shipwrecked on a beautiful Pacific island. L. A. is so gross.
Jane: Yea, but there's Disneyland. That basically makes L.A. the best place in the world, except for wherever else there're Disneylands, like in Florida or someplace. WE SHOULD GO TO DISNEYLAND. Hey, do you have a season pass? I think mine might have a few more days left. We should call someone and find out.
Hilary: O.K.! We'll pick up all our stuff later. Have you seen Alex?
Jane: No. Maybe Alex and Ellen are dead. There might have been sharks.
Hilary: Let's go to Disneyland. We'll pick up all this stuff later.

In Which I Am Stranded

2006-06-07T21:50:00.000-07:00

My ship sank eleven days ago. I had been searching for the end of the world with my fellow comrades, but we were beset by a pack of beastly vermin and their pet giant squid. The giant squid tore my worthy vessel into toothpicks; the beastly vermin kidnapped my first-mate and the incredibly-good-looking-secretary; our honourably stolen goods took to the sea; and I am floating on an enormous silver dinner-platter (we have big parties on occasion).

Everything is so dark. The water is darker than wine. But it is not the darkness of hell; the waves are too peaceful for hell--they keep asking me to keep my mind intact.

It is unfortunate that we were attacked by a giant squid, because in all my childhood day-dreams, he was the most fearsome creature to me. Since when does a fish-related creature have a beak? I am sure to have nightmares.

I am so afraid. I am so alone out in the middle of all this water. I can't help but scream:
"God! Throw me a bone! I'm at the end of my rope!"

Lightning split the sky and something clinked on the metal platter. I felt around with my hands, the detail-work of the metal teasing my fingers...a chicken bone.

"Very nice...thanks, I guess I did ask for that. Well, I suppose that since you are in the mood...could I have some light?"

Suddenly a light-spotted shoreline broke before me, and I swore to myself that the city I beheld was made for angels, such was my joy.