Driftwood

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Splash. Splash. Splash.

These are the sounds of my days.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Splash. Splash. Splash.

I could tell you that's it driving me bananas. But you can probably tell that already.

Bananas. Wrong choice of word. Mad would have been kinder.

Oh, and there is another sound that acts as a drum roll to the intermittent creak and splash, creak and splash.

Growl. Growl. Growl.

The pleading of an organ for sustenance as it slowly eats itself and is angry at the prospect.

Now, I can't stop thinking about bananas.

Bananas. Golden, yellow. Smooth. A cluster of them. Hanging from a hook, sunlit. Waiting to be peeled. Revealing white, flesh, slightly ridged. Waiting, expectant for teeth to penetrate its firm, nutritious flesh and release its sweetness, to surrender to my mastication, a glorious wonder and as it slides down my throat..!

I'm drooling. I need to stop this torture. I can't spare the saliva.

I blame you, for coming here and listening to me and not bringing food. What sort of a houseguest are you?

And drink! You could have brought a drink!

You're not coming again.

Shoo!

No, I don't mean it! Come back!

Fucking gulls. They only come close when they think there's something in it for them. If I had chips, you'd stay, wouldn't you, you fucker!

Perhaps you know I want to eat you.

*

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Splash. Splash. Splash.

I don't have the energy for anger.

It was nice talking to someone, something else. I hope you come back.

*

I HATE the sun. I wish it would fuck off.

I sit here thinking Fuck off, sun. Funny, but I never used to think that in Monte Carlo on the sun deck of my yacht. See? Sun deck! How I loved the sun! It even had its own deck! I suppose, I still have my own sun deck now, on this fucking raft.

Ha!

Never felt like I was on the water then, though. Or a bunch of sticks, albeit a better crafted bunch of sticks. No, it was just another home, another place to enjoy life, another pad. I never realised the value of it. Although I knew how much it was worth.

Lounging, I'd be, waiting for a drink to be brought. Snap my fingers and it would appear. And if it didn't, I'd just sack whoever didn't bring it quickly enough.

I should've sacked him. Miguel. Then they wouldn't have become lovers.

I'd kill him now, of course, if I could get my hands on him or on a phone to arrange a discreet disposal.

I can't believe I was so stupid! Fuck!

*

Days. Daze. Both apply.

Drifting.

I don't want to be here with just my thoughts. They take me to places I don't want to go.

I am a man of distractions. Internationally. Nothing here to distract. Fuck.

No. No, I will not despair. I WILL NOT DESPAIR.

I will have that life back.

I will live.

Millionaires do not die on rafts made of sticks in the ocean. They get rescued. People hunt for them. Lots of people. People they employ. People they pay. Questions get asked.

I should have known when she started that driftwood collection that something was up.

Fuck.

But how sinister can driftwood seem? It's the stuff of art installations and seaside cottages, not fucking husband disposal plans! Shit!

I'm a fucking fool.

Trust. That's what marriages are built on. That's why I was better at business because I trusted no-one or no thing.

Fool. Gooseberry fool. Sweet and sharp and thick on a spoon. Smeared on a breast.

Chicken breast. Cooked in a white wine sauce on a bed of asparagus with fresh peas.

Peas. Please. Please I said as she injected me on the bed. Please don't, arms tied above my head, laid out like a fucking sacrifice on the very spot where we'd made love. Please.

And Miguel. Miguel there as I lost consciousness...

*

Oh, you're back. Good! Welcome back! Thanks for dropping in.

I was just reminiscing and it would be nice to have someone, something hear about how I came to be here. And I'm sorry about earlier. Starvation, thirst and delirium will make you lose your manners. And your train of thought.

But manners? Out the window.

Window. I'd love a window. With a blind.

I would be ashamed about my lack of manners but I don't give a fuck. Too late for that.

You didn't bring a drink, I suppose? No. How could you? You'd never be able to manage it. No hands. Although that beak looks like it's handy. That's a terrible pun. I apologise. Forgive me.

I'm not myself at the moment. Being dumped on a raft made of sticks by your wife and her lover will do that to you.

Wish I'd done a will. Why didn't I do a will?

I could have left it to you! Except I don't know your name. What is your name? Rufus? That's a wonderful name. Strange name for a gull. I'd have had you down more as a Greg. Or something seaworthy like, like, I can't think...

What's that? You've got a cousin called Greg? Ha! Who knew?

Thanks for coming back. It's lonely on the ocean as I'm sure you realise. Next time, bring food. Some fish. Don't mind it raw. Knew a nice little place in Tokyo where they served the most delicious sushi. Loved Japan. Great place.

You've never been? Well, you're missing out, Rufus. Too far to fly, you say? Yes, I suppose you're right. Don't suppose there's a Gull Air you can use?

Was that a laugh, Rufus? I'm going to pretend it was a laugh and not a callout to your cousin Greg to come and join you and feast on my soon to be dead flesh.

What's that? Would make a change from fish? I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that!

I love your feet. What wonderful feet you have.

Thanks for the noise. It's nice to have some variety instead of creak, creak, creak; splash, splash, splash.

I never thought I'd spend my last hours, talking to a gull.

My last hours...

*

Are you still here, my friend? I must have drifted off. Apologies. Such bad manners...my mother...my mother would be so disappointed.

Mother...

*

Sorry. Must have passed out again. Thanks for your patience.

That's the sign of a true friend.

I tell you what, Rufus. I'll let you have first dibs on my body parts, seeing as you're a friend and all. Although, and this is controversial, I wouldn't recommend eyeballs.

What's that? "Why?" Glad you asked.

Well, I'm not keen on their gelatinous nature really. I once had a goat's eyeball at the Sheikh's palace - we were doing an arms' deal but don't tell anyone - and the way it splurged into my mouth took me quite by surprise.

Oh, there I go! Drooling again!

Ah, me. What I'd give to have that eye jelly now.

So damn hungry.

Do you mind if I move closer to you, Rufus? Nice and slowly...No, don't be startled! Just stay where you are! No, don't fly off! Fuck, Rufus! FUCK! DON'T GO!

FFFFFFUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!

Don't cry! Don't cry! Don't cry!

Keep it together.

Don't cry!

*

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Splash. Splash. Splash.

Sun. So bright.

So thirsty.

Hungry...

Rufus...

*

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Splash. Splash. Splash.

Darkness. Am I dead? Please let me be dead!

Stars. Night.

Fuck.

Thought I'd died...

*

Bobbing. So soothing. Just floating away...

Cunning. She was cunning. And cruel. Mercenary.

I loved her.

Fool.

Hope? I have none. No-one's looking for me.

Dead. I am dead.

Do I bake or do I drown?

Bake. Cake.

Cake.

Lips. So dry. So crisp.

So weak.

Tired.

Sleep.

Just roll over...

Cool, cool water.

Stinging. Lips...hurt...

Heavy.

The deep...

Deep...

Sleep.

***