Day 22
It has been five days since she has devoured the last of my crewmen. The creature, she taunts me now. She waits, baiting me. My raft destroyed, I sit on this rock, waiting for death or a chance to take my revenge. The salt water wets my skin, leaving my socks forever damp and festering in mold, which I feast upon. I eat my toe jam sandwiches and wait, baking under the bare ocean sun for a chance when I may lay my weapon into the beast’s mouth and remove it’s tongue, which I will blow my nose and wipe my ass with. I do not pray for rescue anymore. I am too far removed from sanity to ever attain that. Once I let one of my crew men defecate on my chest because as he said, “it'll keep you warm”, and I smeared the feces over my stomach and drew a smiling face and told everyone that the poo was actually my conjoined twin Oliver, I knew the creature had ruined my mind. Now when I pray to Neptune I ask for fists larger enough to punch the beast in the mouth. I want hands large enough to scoop up lakes and smother mountains. Then I’ll smack that bitch in the mouth with them and leave Sunday school marks all over her lips.
Day 67
I had relations with a fish again. But for the first time, it did not finish on my face. I seem to be gaining respect from all of the sea creatures. All but one. I do not want her respect though. I want her head in a wooden box with the words “Whore Mouth” stamped across it. That would be humiliating and a fitting end for a sea-bitch creature such as herself. Never before have I encountered a creature that kills with words. Everyday she asks me how am I doing but I refuse to answer. Yesterday I was weak and replied. She then spoke to me for an hour straight about her hatchlings and some squid that lives in a cave next to hers, before seizing my left ear and chewing it off. At first I thought that she wanted to destroy my flesh. Now I question whether she wants to destroy my soul as well. I spoke to a seagull about getting a restraining order.
My men were lucky to die so quick. She never stops talking. I thought my insanity would save me from the pain of her voice but I suppose her speech transcends my madness. She is a devil or witch. I wish to drive a stake through my brain so I will not have to listen to her witch craft. I tried to scratch my brain through my nose but I could not reach it. Curse her. She is bad at reading social cues. I never make eye contact and I roll my eyes but that is not enough to stop her from lambasting me with her inane babble. Many days I will fall asleep during her incantations to wake with her still speaking. The Whore Mouth dost not speak with me but at me. I am her therapist. She should pay me.
Day 217
I can not defeat this bitch. I’ve severed her head several times but it just grows back. And the mouth becomes wider. And the talking more repetitive. I am a man of low fortune and few options. So I have devised a plan to build a urine powered time machine out of clam shells. I am done fighting her. I can go back to fornicating with fish but fish tend to think very highly of themselves and I always end up feeling used. Yes I know she ate all my ship mates and I should fight her until my last breath but let's be honest. They were going to stage a mutiny against me anyway. I am a horrible captain. We set course for an orgy island off of Greece to gain the company of some loose women and I managed to get them killed by an ancient evil at sea instead. I won’t be winning any awards this year.
Time machine not work. Me crack head on rock. Brains fall out like egg. Be dead soon. Hate you Whore Mouth. P.S. Me hate my mermaid kids too.
That was totally absurb, just the way I like my short stories. Nice.
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