I’m cleaning out e-mails.
My laptop is still AWOL, (*sigh*) but I did get my e-mails restored from back-up. However this has now merged two Outlook Inboxes…and both were already in need of attention.
And I have three tests next week. (Can you say pro·crasti·nation? If not, try it out…pause a little where those dot thingys are.)
Anywho. I do have a point, believe it or not.
While back, friend of mine/online poker buddy sends me this e-mail. While it was cute, it wasn’t of the “Oh my God that is so damn funny I must share it with everyone” variety. However, the ending struck me…so I present it here.
Ed finally decides to take a vacation. He books himself on a Caribbean cruise and proceeds to have the time of his life, until the boat sinks. He finds himself swept up on the shore of an island with no other people, no supplies, nothing. Only bananas and coconuts.
After about four months, he is lying on the beach one day when the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen rows up to him. In disbelief, he asks her, “Where did you come from? How did you get here?”
“I rowed from the other side of the island,” she says. “I landed here when my cruise ship sank.”
“Amazing,” he says. “You were really lucky to have a row boat wash up with you.”
“Oh, this?” replies the woman. “I made the rowboat out of raw materials I found on the island. The oars were whittled from gum tree branches, wove the bottom from palm branches, and the sides and stern came from a Eucalyptus tree.”
“But-but, that’s impossible,” stutters Ed. “You had no tools or hardware. How did you manage?”
“Oh, that was no problem,” replies the woman. “On the south side of the island, there is a very unusual strata of alluvial rock exposed. I found if I fired it to a certain temperature in my kiln, it melted into forgeable ductile iron. I used that for tools and used the tools to make the hardware.”
Ed is stunned.
“Let’s row over to my place,” she says.
After a few minutes of rowing, she docks the boat at a small wharf. As Ed looks onto shore, he nearly falls out of the boat. Before him is a stone walk leading to an exquisite bungalow painted in blue and white.
While the woman ties up the rowboat with an expertly woven hemp rope, he could only stare ahead, dumbstruck.
As they walk into the house, she says casually, “It’s not much, but I call it home. Sit down please. Would you like to have a drink?”
“No, no thank you,” he says, still dazed. “I can’t take any more coconut juice.”
“It’s not coconut juice,” the woman replies. “I have a still.
How about a Pina Colada?”
Trying to hide his continued amazement, he accepts, and they sit down on her couch to talk.
After they have exchanged their stories, the woman announces, “I’m going to slip into something more comfortable. Would you like to take a shower and shave? There is a razor upstairs in the cabinet in the bathroom.”
No longer questioning anything, Ed goes into the bathroom.
There, in the cabinet, is a razor made from a bone handle. Two shells honed to a hollow ground edge is fastened onto its end inside of a swivel mechanism.
“Wow! This woman is amazing,” he muses. “What next?”
When she returns, she greets him wearing nothing but vines, strategically positioned, and smelling faintly of gardenias. She beckons for him to sit down next to her.
“Tell me,” she begins suggestively, slithering closer to him, “We’ve been out here for a really long time. You’ve been lonely. There’s something I’m sure you really feel like doing right now, something you’ve been longing for all these months. You know…”
She stares into his eyes. He can’t believe what he’s hearing:
“You mean—-“, he swallows excitedly, “I can check my e-mail from here?”
Now – why did I immediately think, other possible endings could be:
“I can log into Party Poker from here?”
“I can blog from here?”