A Man, a Girl, a Deserted Island - - A Crazy Epic Love Saga

Episode 21: That maneuver with a weird name

The nymph seems a bit upset or maybe unenthusiastic. She only responds to the old man with "Ja" and "Nein."Maybe she's upset, maybe she's sad... Maybe she's a bookworm and doesn't appreciate traveling. He let her sit by the window, but she doesn't even pay attention to the beautiful sky beyond the porthole. 

Of course she's sad. I would be sad too if I had to hook up with old guys for money. Oh, yes, I think I'd be terribly sad. 

I try to imagine her kissing the chubby man next to her, sticking her tongue in his mouth, and climbing on him like a cat, but somehow the image is too scandalous to form in my mind.

 Where's that airsickness bag? I feel like throwing up. I'm traveling with a drunken pilot, a little slut, and a chubby satyr.

A cigarette... 

I can't just take out the cigarette and ask them if I can light it. I simply can't. I have my dignity as a smoker too. The mere idea of interacting with these wretches almost physically sickens me.

The girl turns her eyes to me again and stares at me. It's like she's reading my thoughts.

Stop looking at me like that with your coal-black eyes. Ok? I'm not the floozy on this plane. You are!

I said stop looking at me, you little devil. Damn it, look away!

I yield first and look elsewhere. This being has a strange look. I'm glad I only have an hour left and I'll be rid of them both.

I need to smoke! I need to, or I'll die! I want nicotine!

I stand up abruptly. I stride quickly through the seats and open the small cockpit door. I barge in on a bored Jean-Louis.

"Jean-Louis, buddy, does your tongue still hurt? Can I smoke a cigarette here?"

"Smoke two. Smoke as many as you like."

I light up a damn Marlboro and take a deep drag. I blow the smoke slowly towards the ceiling. Bliss at its highest! I melt like a rag.

"Jean-Louis," I say groggily, "have you seen those fruit-flavored leaf cigarettes over in Malaysia? I've been craving a cherry-flavored cigarette for about eleven days now."

"I'm not into that stuff. I've never touched a cigarette in my life."

"Why?"

"I've been told that whoever smokes will die young, and I took it seriously."

The cigarette is goddamn good, but it's missing something.

"Do you happen to have anything to drink around here?" I ask timidly.

Suddenly I scare myself.

Then I horrify myself.

I can't believe what I just said. It's like I swore something to Someone last night. I look around in horror. God is merciful. He hasn't struck me yet.

"Or, better, forget it!" I quickly say.

"Please, don't mention booz," Jean-Louis grimaces. "I feel nauseous, and my head is killing me."

I take a deep breath and tell myself confusedly that God can't punish me for an oath made out of fear of the Frenchman and death. That's not a valid oath.

And besides, HE is not vengeful. HE knows how much I need a sip of alcohol. It's morning, and I need to perk up a bit.

Forgive me, Lord! You are merciful! You understand me! You know how much I love You.

Just a sip of alcohol and that's it.

Then I'll stop.