The merriment continues! Mini Cyni is home and well! 5 more weeks till I can get some lovin!
hops BACK into Mr. C’s lap
So hon…how YOU doin?
C’mon Mr. Cyn. It’s a dark jungle out there. There appears to be fewer people on our island. I say go find a cave and practice your one armed bamboo shucking.
Have you ever snorted frozen yogurt up your nose, Mully? Because thanks to that last post, I have.
So, Cyn, are Mrs. Cyn and the Cyniggit home yet?
They’re home, and all is well. Brat’s gaining weight, and making MORE of my hair gray.
If you really do name him “Brat” I think you might be setting him up for some serious emotional issues down the line.
Woohoo for me? I gave Swiddles a true ice cream headache.
Hey Mr.C, can Brat come out and play?
Here’s how I read Cyn’s post.
Bart’s gaining weight and making more hair gravy.
My reactions to reading as such: [ul]
[li]He named the kid BART? I thought it was some normal name.[/li][li]Hair gravy? I know infants emit a substance that resembles gravy, but there is something seriously wrong if there is hair involved.[/ul][/li]
Thanks, Mully. Looks like your ice cream headache caused brain damage.
How much partying can we really have on this island? And where do all these guests keep coming from? HEY, lets start up a hotel and casino chain on this island and cash in on visiting dopers and their families, then it’ll be impossible not to survive here.
::soulsling starts looking for a deck of cards, some chips, and a monkey…::
drags himself painfully out of the ocean fully clothed and with a life preserver and speaks breathlessly
Hello? Anyone… storm… tiny ship tossed… badaboom…
makes mental note to never again let his travel agent talk him into a Three Hour Tour
::conks dpr over head with broken oar::
Barbecue, anyone?
Hey! dpr BBQ. That should go well with our strip poker game, but Mr.C, save the next tourist so we can force him to stay in our hotel and gamble everything he has in our new casino. Then when he’s done, we can eat him…
Damn my insatiable gullet!
I’ll do my best. Someone gimme a bottle, a cork, and pen and paper.
::writing hastily::
Help, we’re stranded on a deserted isle! The only distractions for us here are the beer volcano, and the hula girls that we rescued from the ship!
Come save us!
::snicker snicker::
::Tossing bottle into currents::
Hey, good one. Now we’ll have lots of tourists empty their credit card accounts on us, and feeding us.
:: pins medal on Mr.C for outrageous ingenuity ::
Can I be the resident torch singer? I know a lot of Gershwin…
Hmmmm…what can I do, then? All I do is sing…
:: makes very manly gesture with hands in air! ::
Yes, not ONE but TWO lounge/Gershwin singers.
Okay ladies, but you’ve gotta get these tourists to spend everything they’ve got, remember, they’re dinner!
I can try and use my brute force to smuggle people onto our little slice of island heaven. Then, it’s free reign baby!
Having observed the cutthroat tactics on Cecil Island, I prepare for joining the group by donning a Grizzly Suit. I cannot be conked over the head, or stabbed, or have my throat cut. I am invincible!
The denizens of Cecil Island look up at the buzz of a low-flying plane. A hefty figure, apparently clad in metal, dives out the side door, popping his parachute. That, of course, would be me. As I drift down, they can hear me cackling, “Mine! You are all mine!”
They watch calmly as I slowly descend, coming down about fifty feet offshore, and sink into the sea like a brick.
As the water rises above my knees, my cackling gives way to cries of fear, pleas for assistance, and, in short order, wordless girlish shrieks of panic. The suit’s head disappears beneath the waves; my faint screaming and gurgling ends after less than a minute. Those who are still feeling the effects of the 'shroom juice assume that what they just saw was a hallucination.
Peace returns to the island.
P.S. Anyone who wants to brave the shark-infested waters, I had some really cool survival supplies in secret compartments in the Grizzly Suit. I leave it to you to discover what they are…
:: sitting around tapping my fingers on the countertop of the Hotel desk… waiting for our first guests to arrive…::
Feels lonely in here, where did everyone go? Did I win?