On a life raft

It seemed as if Sarah had been on the life raft forever.

It had been weeks since her ship had gone down and she had had anything to eat save K-rations and fish.

She had always meant to go on a diet but she hadn’t meant to go this far. And even if she did find food, she’d probably go mad if she didn’t find land soon. One could pee over the side for only so long before it got old and she was beginning to smell like an unwashed pair of sweat socks.

But wait!

In the distance.

Was that a puff of smoke she saw?

Maybe it was a ship, she thought, as she reached for her paddle.

Or an island.

Didn’t matter which. As long as she was rescued.

As she paddled closer, she began to realize that it was an island.

The smoke came from over the trees as if someone or something had built a bonfire.

Maybe there’s people, she thought.

Friendly people.

That would be nice.

Sarah looked down at her ragged clothing and wished she had something more presentable to wear upon landing. But she hadn’t had a chance to grab much when she had found out the ship was sinking.

And if one particularly irate sailor had had his way, she wouldn’t even have had that.

It was not her fault that the ship had been hit by a tropical storm in the middle of her pole dancing class. Nor was it her fault that she had been the last one to make it to a life raft. (So much for the old tradition of women and children first.)

She was lucky to escape being washed overboard as it was. And what had happened to the crew and the other passengers she had no way of knowing. They certainly never showed up in her area of the ocean.

She could not wait to get to shore. She was sick of staring at the ocean and she was sick of having to subsist on starvation rations. If she found a good set of clothes on shore, that would be nice too but Sarah suspected that she’d probably have to make due with palm leaves.

Her nipples started itching again and for the umpteenth time, she wished someone had chosen to leave a good supply of sunblock in the life raft.

Maybe if she could find another hairpin in her purse, she could attach it to her underwear and make a makeshift fishing rod. It certainly couldn’t be worse than the old fishing poles she had constructed out of her dress, her high heels and her bra. But, alas, time and big fish had put paid to all of those improvised fishing supplies. And she was pretty sure she was out of hairpins. After all, there wasn’t a whole lot of places they could be on this life raft.

She heard the sound of waves breaking upon a distant shore. She was getting close.

Oh, great.

She started paddling harder, hoping that she could make it onshore before the sun went down or a sudden tropical storm hit.

She could see the island now. Nothing but sandy beaches and palm trees.

Still no sign of humanity apart from the smoke, but that didn’t matter.

At this point, she’d welcome anyone.

As she came closer to shore, an urge suddenly struck her.

She had to go.

She hopped into the surf, lowered her underpants and quickly did her business.

As she climbed back on board the life raft, something snagged her underpants. She found herself falling back off into the surf.

She started to get up again but her underpants were stuck on something. Probably a bit of coral or an underwater branch.

She gave it a brief tug and whatever was holding on it gave way.

As did her underpants.

It fell down and entangled her legs, causing her to fall down in the surf.

She lost hold of the life raft and a sudden current pushed it away.

She stood up gingerly and started to search for her torn underpants.

But apparently luck was against her. Her last bit of clothing had not only been destroyed, but its remains had been already swept up by the ocean currents and taken beyond her reach.

Damn!