That's a Good Question

          Well, here I am sitting on a rotting palm tree, under the sweltering sun with a first place bowling trophy, a vacuum cleaner, and … hold on; I should probably start at the beginning. You're probably wondering how I got onto this godforsaken island in the first place. It's a long story.

          This whole adventure or shall I say misadventure began at the Tri-city 176 annual National Bowling, Singing, Trivia, and of course Polka Contest. The NBSTAOCPC for short. This contest is held every third Wednesday of the fifth month only on an even numbered day, when the tide has been out for over three hours and the sun is– oh never mind.

          The glorious contest is an extreme honor to win. Only the most gifted and truly talented person can achieve such glory, which is of course me! Even though everyone else knew this, I had to convince the judges. That was my task.

          I stepped up to the dance floor and prepared to astound everyone with my incredible dance moves. I took a step forward, tripped over a cable, and fell flat on my face. I was disqualified because during my fall, my hand hit the punch bowl and spewed refreshing blue raspberry punch all over the esteemed judges. Because everyone knew my true potential, or was it because they felt sorry for me, it was decided that I would receive a trophy for my efforts. They found my trophy buried under tacky Christmas decorations and boxes and boxes of used bowling shoes.

          As soon as I was handed that priceless piece of metal with the name Eugene on it, (whoever Eugene was I knew he must have been famous) I knew it was my destiny to become a professional elephant chaser. Yes, I said elephant chaser. Anyways, after I had received my trophy, I hightailed it home to show my great achievement to my beloved fish George.

          I got home and ran over to George's tank and started looking for him ndent}frantically. Then I spotted him. He was floating in the corner of the tank, right next to the plastic pirate, belly up. I burst into tears, my heart broken because my beloved George was gone! I decided to make a sandwich, (sandwiches were George's favorite) in memory of George. I went into the kitchen to assemble the memorial. I rounded the corner and saw a strange man going through my refrigerator. Anger seethed through me. Did this stranger KILL GEORGE?

          I marched up to the stranger and violently tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped up in surprise and dropped my favorite iar of pickles. I watched in horror as they hit the tile and smashed into a million pieces. First he kills George and on top of thqat he demolishes my pickles! What kind of abominable person could this be?
          "Sorry!" he said sheepishly. "Didn't mean to break anything."

          Didn't mean to break anything! What about my heart? My poor beloved fish was floating not five yards away, belly up!

          "What about my fish?"

          "What fish?" he asked.

          "The fish you killed!"

          "I've never killed anything in my life!"

          "Well then how did he die?" I asked exasperated.

          "Old age?"

          "He was in the prime of life!"

          "Hmm…Underfed?"

          "I would never!"

          "By Jove I've got it! I'll bet he's just sleeping, let's go see!" He ran into the living room and I rushed after him.

          We bent down and peered into the tank. I stretched out a finger, glanced at the stranger, and lightly tapped George. I held my breath and waited. All of a sudden, George leapt out of the tank, dove back in, swam a few circles and came over to me.

         I cried out and threw my arms around the stranger.

         "He's alive!" I yelled.

         I remembered myself and pushed the stranger away.

          "Who are you anyway?" I asked.

          "Umm…Well, that's a good question"

TO BE CONTINUED…