“The monkeys told me I’d find you here, wallowing in self pity.”

“Ahh, what do monkey’s know anyway” I replied as traced figure eights in the sand with a branch I pulled off the tree. I had the bright idea that I would start weaving baskets with the banana leaves. The plan was to practice with the baskets and then maybe work my way up to sails. It was harder than it looked.

“They know you don’t know jack about arts and crafts, which is surprising, considering the amount of time you’ve spent inside the cuckoo bin”

A dirty look was the only response I had for her. At least I was trying to do something about the situation, rather than going acting all Jacque Cousteu with wildlife. She just kept smiling at her clever jokes.

The sun was starting to go down, causing the craggy boulders along the beach to cast a rosey glow. Two days had gone by and they still hadn’t figured a way out, or a reliable way to eat.

“I don’t suppose you asked your Monkey friends when to arrive for dinner?”