A Witch, A WebLock and A Monk

“Things could’t have been worse, if I was stuck on The Minnow! Even Gilligan had the strength to generate sufficient electricity on an old bike wheel, for Pete’s sake!”

“Well, WebWitch, that was stranded on an island, Hollywood, style. But at least we are together, and we have an all-in-one, handy dandy all purpose tool on my Swiss Army knife. And, we got to shore before it could rust.”

Weblock was always a survivalist. He could take one convenient tool and carve through palm leaves for bedding down, poke holes in a coconut, after sawing through the flesh surrounding it, and trap a juicy caterpillar to hook up on the end of a reed with a stripped-down vine and a borrowed pierced earring from WebWitch.

That evening, the one thing WebLock didn’t have time to find, was enough downy fibers from plants to start a fire. There wasn’t sufficient sun, anyway, when they swam from the sinking canoe, learning a huge lesson, that beautiful coral reefs are not a soft sail.

The couple found other ways to keep warm that night, which need not be divulged for the purposes of telling this story.

The next morning, WebWitch set out to gather berries, while WebLock, used her reading glasses, always around her neck and managing to stay there throughout the ordeal, to catch the sunrays upon the downy soft weed-fluff. By the time WebWitch returned, with a blouse held high, sporting sufficient berries in the scooped-up part of the shirt to create an interesting tye-dyed pattern. She appeared to be overjoyed by the discovery.

Both took turns attempting to catch fish, as protein was truly desirable to slow down the action of coconut milk and berries, paper product were a luxury they didn’t have.

WebWitch, a “Mistress-bater, Fisher-woman” because "Master” didn’t quite sound right, caught a good-sized Spanish Mackerel. Ah! The scent of roasting mackerel drenched with coconut milk and chunks of pineapple were simply amazing.

The couple was well fed and well sated in everything needed or desired, if one needed to be stuck on a desert island. On their walk in the early evening, gazing toward the western sky, awaiting the sunset, WebWitch tripped over something, because, well, something was lying on the ground and “tripable,” and because WebWitch is truly a klutz. It was a cell phone!

“WebWitch!” Shouted WebLock. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, this thing caught my foot and put me off balance. It’s an old cell phone, I guess. I lost my balance. But it’s good to have a souvenir of modern sociaty if we are going to be stuck here the rest of our lives.”

Weblock took the phone, and although it seemed impossible, clicked it on and saw the light of the keyboard. He went to the contacts and called the first name on the list. The phone rang --- there was a signal somewhere close-by, that allowed a call to be made. While it rang, he said to WebWitch, “Why would someone leave their phone behind? Maybe they were attacked by a wild boar, and dropped the phone. Perhaps a day ago, this person was alive and well and stuck, just like us.”

But before she could answer, another voice answered the call.

“Hello, who’s calling this number, please?”

“Hello, I am WebLock, and me and my sweet cakes are stranded on this desert island. This phone was found on the alcove near the palms and oaks. Can you please send help? We don’t know where we are, but perhaps have the Coast Guard triangulate this call and find us.”

There was a spell of laughter coming from the other end of the phone.

“WebLock, I am Sharona. The phone you found belongs to Mr. Adrian Monk. We were on an outing early yesterday when he lost his phone. If you ever knew Mr. Monk, you would know attempting an adventure like the one we took yesterday took great effort. But Doctor Kroger came along with us to help him overcome his fears of agoraphobia. We will send the Coast Guard out for you, pronto. You guys are fortunate Mr. Monk is obsessed with keeping his cell phone power-bars always filled to the max.”

WebWitch and WebLock watched as the heavenly shades of twilight were falling, and the beacon lights of the Coast Guard vessel was heading closer toward where their fire glowed on shore.



WC 759