SPRING ORGY -- The Palm Tree Parababble Janey said: >Next up is one for Malinov's castaway cruise. I hope you're coming? Losgud said: >Malinov's castaway cruise? What's that? Ah me, always missing the boat. >Maybe someone will write me in a nice cameo appearance. Janey said: >Do write something for the castaway island party . . . I want to read it. >If you don't I'll put a cameo of you doing something really embarrassing >in my next one! I _immediately_ grabbed my large cardboard suitcase out of the fridge. I thought briefly about contacting some of my regular correspondents. But Coyote Azure was still off-line, some of the others were a bit too busy with real life to wing off on a breeze...and hell, with my dinky PC o' shit it'd take hours to bring up the Hotmail Compose screen. And days to agonize over my little notes. I was paralyzed with indecision. Fortunately, Reason strolled over and tapped me on the shoulder. "Hello, Mr. Reason!" "Losgud, you doofus. You're the only one in the world who doesn't read ASSD on a daily basis. Everyone who is planning on going is already down at the dock." Even speeding with the cyberwind didn't get me there quite on time. The gangway was already up. I was left with no option. Gripping the cool handle of my cardboard suitcase in my teeth, I began inching my way up one of the fat ropes that held the behemoth fast to the dock. Damn, I should have worn gloves. But once I got the hang of it, I was fairly scurrying up the rope. When I got to the very top I poked my beady face over the edge. "Eek! Los ratos!" Fortunately for the others, the drinks had been disbursed moments before I made my presence known. The tray clattered on the floor with an empty rattle as the native serving girl ran screaming down the deck. I hoisted myself up over the side. "That's Losgud to you, ma'am," I shouted after her, "and I do believe there's but the one of me." Only then did it really register that I had an audience in a line of loungers. "Hi Losgud! Excellent entrance!" growled The Bear. Poison Ivan gave me the thumbs-up. "Triple-Bo in my book." "Yea yea," I muttered, "but I bet there'll be twenty better this month." "Jealous?" Kim . "As long as I've been on the trail of the Elusive Golden Phallus?" "Well," Mark Aster noted, "if you'd gotten here on time and gone up the gangway with the rest of us. And already you're getting into a bit too much setup here that has nothing to do with the sex . . . " "Sex?" I blinked, "did someone just say the magic word?" There was a general roar of laughter, but not so loud as to disguise the noise of clinking ice cubes. I brightened at the sound. But then I frowned. "Hey, don't you have to wait for the seatbelt sign to go off before the drinks come around?" The answers flew quick and thick. "Right idea, wrong mode." "My this airplane has stubby little wings." "This is a boat, Losgud--they crash _through_ the water, not into the water." "Hmmm," I pondered the last, "that's reassuring." There was a sudden shift of mood. DG came storming down the deck waving his laptop. Flaptop? Hope it didn't become a slaptop. "I thought I said that I encourage anyone who is planning to participate in this festive event to use details, scenes, and characters from the following introduction in their own stories. . . . Please keep in mind that this is a light-hearted farce! Everyone comes onboard and proceeds immediately to Kim's Cabin." Therefore: meanwhile, back in cabin 341 . . . "And did anyone else notice that all the fire extinguishers have been replaced with ice buckets?" I asked. Maybe someone had, but no one was paying any attention to what I'd said- -which was just as well, as much as I was biting my tongue for having mentioned it. Just then the bathroom door popped open like a cork from a bottle of champagne. The bubbly gush of Kim spewed forth. The distraction was fortunate in a way; the mini-fridge in my room wasn't big enough for my suitcase, so I'd buried an item or two deep in the ice of every bucket. The room started getting a bit stuffy for me. The floors slippery and the walls sticky. And noisy! The bathroom door was banging like a loose shutter in a high wind. From inside I heard a low moan followed by a high shriek, a giggled, "Now I know how it felt to go down on the Titanic!" I repaired to my own room to freshen up, perhaps have a quick nap. Cabin 666, a retrofitted broom closet next to the boiler room. I was not surprised. I sat on the edge of my bed and studied the itinerary. What was it with all these early morning workshops? This was supposed to be a vacation of sorts! I decided to prepare my proxy, rummaging through the dresser until I came across the complimentary sheet of stationery and nub of pencil. "Greetings from Bates' Motel"--hmm, I didn't like the looks of that. A brief scribble on both sides of the piece of paper and I was done. I'd heard that these cruise ships were virtual floating cities--sure enough, Kinko's was up on the fourth level. I ran off a couple dozen copies, then snuck into the conference room and distributed them randomly on the tables, the "Hold Me Up" side visible. Face down was "LOSGUD SPEAKS--& makes an ass of himself!" There, that took care of that! I went running down the corridor, turned a corner and collided with a young lady. Down on our respective asses we went, sheets of paper floating down around us. She was quick to snatch them all up and hold them protectively against her bosom. I delicately plucked my original from the fan. She glanced at my piece of paper, and then at my face. "Are you really Losgud," she keened, "the world famous Smutologist?!!" "Uhhhh, yup. Who are you?" "Oh," she blushed so sweetly, "no one you've ever heard of. A fledgling writer of erotica who slipped aboard the ship bearing her very first effort in the hopes of . . . " I nodded at the papers she held clutched. She nodded back. Shyness, be brushed aside, I commanded myself. When opportunity knocks you on your ass, answer! "Really? Great? Given the attrition rate, the NGs always need new blood. If you'd like, we could, uh, go back to my cabin, and, uh, I could read that and, uh, give you some pointers if you would like." "Would I?" she gushed. "Would you?" she double-gushed. The others may have thought they were engaged in merriment all evening long, but I had the genuine article down in my cabin. I gave her pointers well into the deep of the night, until I eventually ran out of pointers. At some point, sheer intellectual exhaustion must have made us fall asleep. Dawn came creeping through the porthole just in time for me to observe Mary Mint slipping out the door. I gave the new day some consideration, but nothing stirred below. "I'm afraid I have nothing to offer the morning," I begged off. I was answered by a growly sort of laugh. Dawn quickly turned to Daylight, and sat on my face. Hours and hours and hours passed before I could pry myself out of bed. I'd missed breakfast, I'd missed lunch; to judge by the vast reverberations of mastication shaking the boat, I was in very real danger of missing dinner as well. But I had no clue where the dining room was. And all these levels and corridors and stairwells, it was like a fucking maze. Finally some of the cabin numbers began to look familiar. Ahh, there was 341! The door was ajar, so I peeked in. The room was empty. Well, not empty. There wasn't anyone inside, but it looked like someone had dumped the contents of a Victoria's Secret catalogue into the room. I glanced up and down the corridor, then stepped in. My god! There was enough, um, _inspiration_ to stock a thousand stories. I began stuffing my pockets until I was interrupted by an uneasy feeling. The ship gave a lurching groan, which I mistook for the sound of my imminent discovery. I heard the creak of the swinging door. I whirled around, knocking over the goddamn lamp. Too busy to bother picking it up. "No, I'm not a TV; no, I'm not a fetishist; no, I'm not a common thief; no, I'm not a merchant of previously-owned underthings. I'm simply gathering raw material for future stories! Honest!!!!" Curiously--but not out of keeping--I found that I was defending myself to an empty doorway. Then the smell hit me. No, not _that_ smell. I turned and saw in disbelief that the halogen bulb had ignited the piles of underwear. Briskly I stepped over to the room's phone. "Hello? hello? Yes, this is Losgud . . . uhm . . . cabin 341--yes I know that's not my room--what am I doing in . . . ? that's none of your goddamn business! Listen, this is urgent, I need to talk to the Continuity Officer. Oh, hi Julie. That'd be you? I thought you were the cruise director. Oh yea? And that, and that and that? Your printed job description is the bow ballast? You don't say? Other- Duties-As-Assigned spelled out is in the stern? Say, you all are short- staffed. What? You'd like to staff my shorts? Help me short my staff? Um, well, back to what I was calling about . . . I've got a problem. My panties are on fire. No no no, they're not actually _mine_. I knocked over this stupid lamp and . . . I just don't see how this is possible. I mean, these panties are wet! No, not just damp, wet. Soaking wet, sopping wet, I mean _dripping_ wet! How could they catch fire? No, I mean that in a literal sense. What? Your Hot Panties Smolder For Me? Well, I'm flattered, but . . . no, I don't doubt your mechanical aptitude. I'm sure You Could Cum Down And Grease My Rudder, but there really isn't the time." I hung up with a shudder. Ms. Julie Cruise Director was no doubt sunlighting as an Agent from SPAM. Should I tell the others? Too late! Out in the hall I located the nearest ice bucket. After retrieving my personal possessions, I chucked the bucketful in the blaze of ill-fated cabin 341. Futile gesture, that. I ascended an Escheresque series of staircases while preparing myself like a baby sheep in the oven to roast. "You idiot, you shouldn't be allowed out of the house!" I lambasted myself. "If word of this gets around, you'll never get invited anywhere ever again. Not even second- hand." Having eventually reached the sunshine of the main deck, I noticed that not everyone was off at dinner. Keep calm, I told myself, don't betray yourself. I strolled over to the pool. There was a woman girdled by an inner tube standing at the edge about to jump in. Oh boy, a real woman. (All the sorority girls and cheerleaders had, I supposed, been deflated and put away for later.) She stood about 5'10", well muscled and nicely rounded, with a curly mess of dark blond hair. "Hey, Janey! Woo-hoo, nice new swimsuit." She turned, putting the inner tube on display. "Hi, Losgud! You like? Glad to see you could make it. Decide you could embarrass yourself all on your own?" How did she know? We gave each other a big hug. Hugs have to be big when they involve inner tubes. "Mmm," I leered, "turn around!" Janey did and I instantly rewarded her with a pinch on the bottom. She squealed and her arms dropped to protect her bum, but not before the inner tube had fallen around her ankles. From there she was a pushover. I barely had to tap to send her toppling into the pool. I bent and gained possession of the inner tube. "Hey, okay if I borrow this for awhile?" Still blinded by chlorine, she gave my direction a quizzical look. "Oh, by the way, I think there's a fire in Kim's cabin." "So what else is new?" she grinned. "Not figurative this time around." "Oh?" With that I ran over to the side railing, climbed up, and pitched myself into the sea. "Man overboard!" I heard as I leapt. "Are you sure?" I heard as I fell. "Absolutely. No gender confusion with that one!" I heard as I . . . SPLASH. I thought I'd made good my escape, but almost immediately the deck was filled with the throngs and they were lowering the lifeboats. My god, they were coming after me! And they were able to row! But as they all overtook me, they just waved and cheered. "Good man, Losgud! Thanks for the warning! Glad to see you got off!" I looked at my lap. Not yet! "Hey, where are y'all headed?" "To Malinov's Island! Follow us!" Fortunately the ocean current was like an obedient narrative. I drifted along behind the little boats, drawing into sight of the fabled paradise at nearly the same time as the rest of them. But as the others pulled in towards a small cove, the ocean gave a little chuckle and turned to go around the island. "Losgud, where are you going? To the cove, my man, _to the cove!_" I gestured helplessly with my arms. "I don't have all my oars in the water!" I drifted past the cove and along the coast toward the southern end of the island, at which point I seemed in very real danger of floating back out to sea. There was nothing left to do but pull an Al Haig. "I'm in control now!" came the roar of the beast. "I wield the pen! What? Miss all the revelry of an island full of erotica's finest minds? The mind being the primary sexual organ . . . I will wield my pen . . . my pen is . . . my pen is . . . my pen is mightier than . . . nay, my pen is my sword!" With such waves of convolution, the ocean current gladly turned and spat me out on the southern beach. I stumbled along the shore for awhile, unsure of my bearings. Damn, I was tired and hot and thirsty. I did have several items from my suitcase in my pockets, but after all the agitation they would be dangerous to open. Besides, it'd take me an hour of digging down through all the panties to find them. Then up ahead I spied something glittering in the light. As I approached I saw that it was a glass bowl. With a goldfish swimming inside. Freshwater! There was a curious array of signs posted all around the bowl. "MAGIC WATER" "DRINK ME!" "FREE--1 SIP--MAKE YOUR DREAM COME TRUE!!" "LIMIT ONE WISH PER CUSTOMER!!!" "Oh right!" I murmured. "Fucking goldfish swimming around in there. Look what good it's done him." The fish made little kissy faces at me, then stuck it's head out of the water. "Hey buddy, you better believe it!" "What? Hey, fish can't talk!" "This is fiction, you goof. I could get up and tap dance if it would help advance the plot." "Okay, okay. But like what?" I peered down into the bowl. "I know fish are stupid, but what was your wish? That your little castle thing down there be made of ceramic instead of plastic?" The fish heaved a great sigh. "Check it out." He took a deep breath and then began to sing. Oh, once I was a mighty whale but I tired of the whaling life how I pined to shrink my tail live an existence free of strife the Willy's freed, Ahabs crazed the migratory creed left me dazed I beached myself on yonder sand my tongue tip in this dish desperation's final stand had me keening one last wish so now I lead a life that's bland as a humble orange fish. "Hey, not bad," I applauded. "Yea, it's not bad. It's a good life. I swim around and around, make funny faces. When I'm feeling particularly frisky, I dart through the hole in the castle. This guy comes once a day and dumps a bunch of flakes in the water for me to eat . . . hey, here he comes now! Yum!" But I wasn't really paying attention to the final words of the fish. I was thinking about an island full of erotic writers without any means of expression other than . . . like sit around the campfire every night and tell stories? Doubter! And it'd be three months before the Summer Solstice rolled around to change the venue. While I'd been blessed well enough by Nature, if I could just get the wording right, maybe I could grow a great big dick _and_ redefine the phrase "Two Minute Miracle" in terms of recovery, not performance! With the image of a nearby palm tree as inspiration, I bent down to kiss my reflected lips. "NOOOOO! DON'T DO THAT!!!!!" I whirled around. Running up the beach towards me was an old man trailing a long beard and hair, wearing nothing but a pair of ragged trousers that, on closer inspection, seemed to be woven of native grasses. As he caught his breath, he reached down to tap some fish food into the bowl. "Whoa, shit," I whispered, "is that a palm tree in your pants, or are you just glad to see me?" I was afraid of the answer. "Both," he replied. "The latter in hopes of sparing you the former. You see, I was once exactly like you, kneeling in that very spot, thinking your same thoughts . . . " "Huh? Who are you? Bluebeard the Pirate?" "Try Blueballs the Private Citizen." "Back up, back up," I waved at him. "This is getting pretty confusing. Start at the beginning." "Okay. Lord Malinov, your leader? A Lord Malinov was our leader as well. Half a century ago, we were a hearty robust crew of erotic writers--back in the age of print, mind you. We too went on a workshop cruise, aboard the ill-fated S.S. Hindenboat. Fortuitously washed ashore on this very island. And there I was as you are now, but where I am now was no one to warn me away. I learned the chronically hard way that a palm tree penis is pointless but for the clambering of cute little monkeys." "Wait wait wait--monkeys on isolated tropical islands: that's a myth." "And don't I know it," he groaned. "How I dream of the touch of furry little hands," his eyes rolled at the thought, "but the truth is that the only mammals on the island are a vast and insufferable army of huge rats descended from a visit Captain Cook paid to the place several hundred years ago. I never get any sleep. All night long they scurry up and down my trunk. And when those bastards bite your coconuts, it _hurts!_" Okay, to hell with magic waters and king-sized addendums. I was ready to get to the other end of the island and have some fun the old- fashioned way. I'd been saved, many thanks and all, but really, it was time to ditch the pitiful samaritan. "Um, you're not going to detain me further with the sad and sordid chronicle of the past fifty years, are you?" I grimaced. "You better believe I am. But first, you might want to back away. I wouldn't trust that fish. He's not as happy as he pretends, and he has a nasty streak. He'll spit in your mouth when you're not looking. Last guy who was here, we got to talking. Idle conversation. Started wishing for some food. Said he was hungry enough to eat a horse . . . SQUIRT. It is not a pretty sight, a man who has instantaneously ingested an entire horse. Helluva mess to clean up, too." I jumped up, feet sliding in the sand, accidentally kicking the bowl as I scrambled away. CRASH! Shit! Broken glass all over the floor. I knew I should have changed the water last week; the only way to get rid of the stench will be to tear up the carpet and burn it. The cat, having waited most her life for this opportunity, was already down the hall and under the far corner of the bed with the fish in her mouth. Damn tropical islands! You'd think they'd be happy with their lot. But no-o-o. Give one half a chance and it'll turn into an industrialized continent every time.