I Got your "Little Buddy" Right Here

Our special celebrity guest columnist today is writing from an uncharted desert isle.
“Three years. It’s been three years. I can’t believe it. It was only supposed to be a three hour tour.
A three hour tour.
Who found the tree sap for the pancake syrup? Me. Who saved everyone from the WWII vet who didn’t know the war was over? Me. Who took a coconut on the nose? Me. Who became the radio to warn us about the typhoon? Me. Who towed the mine out into the lagoon, where it exploded harmlessly? Me. Who saved Mrs. Howell’s life? Me. Finally, who burned the bush with the mind-reading berries, saving us from total self-destruction? Me. Me me me.
Without me, we wouldn’t have survived on this island for a three stinking weeks.
Three stinking weeks.
It must be great being a hero, you’re thinking. The others must worship you like some kind of diety. You’d think so, wouldn’t you? No. I’m The Official Fall Guy. The Moron. The Scapegoat. The Whipping Boy. I save the island, perhaps everyone thinks I’m dead or injured, I am discovered whole, everyone thanks me and sings my praises, and then it’s back to business as usual until another crisis needs solving.
I know what you’re thinking. ‘The Skipper must really respect and admire your courage under fire. Why, by now, he must look at you as an equal.’ HAH! I’m not even going to go into what it’s like in our hut. It’s awful. As soon as the tiki torches go out, it’s the same thing. ‘Oh, (celebrity guest blogger), It’s time you met MY little buddy.’ The horror.
Does Ginger saunter over and say ‘Ooh, (celebrity guest blogger)! You’re so clever and brave. Can I rub your neck- oh, that isn’t your neck, is it? Hee hee. Oops! I dropped my scarf. I’ll just bend over and pick it up…’ No. Ginger just sways and jiggles all over the island in her form-fitting dresses and her perfect makeup, making googly eyes and pretending she doesn’t notice and revel in the attention. She makes me want to grab her perfumed neck and…hee hee hee!
The Professor? Yeah, he could have gotten us off this rock a long time ago. Of course he can fix the boat. Why doesn’t he? Mary Ann. Oh, they pretend no one else knows, but these huts aren’t exactly soundproof. Come on. In the real world, he was just a geek with chemical burns on his fingers. Yeah, some hot Midwestern babe with abs you could, well, crack a coconut on, would have gone for him in the real world. Suuuuuure. She’d dump him like an old shoe if we ever got out of here. He knows that. So here we stay, with nothing but the coconuts and the sea and the coconuts and the sand and the stinking coconuts! Well, I’m sure Mary Ann’s abs wouldn’t save her if she had a little fall off a cliff. Ha ha ha! And I’d like to see the Professor think his way out of the lagoon with a rock tied around his foot. Hee hee hee!
The Howells are the very worst example of the evils of capitalism. They think they can buy anything- power, respect and people. People! A monetary valuation of people strips away their humanity and makes them commodities. All commodities are disposable. I am not disposable! I am not some hourly employee the Howells can threaten with pink-slipping. I am (celebrity guest blogger)! I AM THE ISLAND! HAR HAR HAR!
Go get us some lobsters! HAH! I almost lost my arm to a three meter shark.
A three meter shark.
Go find some more berries from the other side of the island! HAH! That was a three mile walk.
A three mile walk.
Well, hee hee hee, I’ve got a little surprise for everyone. It may not get me off the island, but it will get me some peace and quiet. They don’t know that I actually discovered TWO mines. And I watched the Professor, and I learned a couple of tricks, ho ho, ho! I’ve got that second mine all set up under the dining table and rigged with a three minute fuse.
A three minute fuse.
I have to go now. Its… hee hee…dinnertime. Ha ha! HA HA! BWAAAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!”