Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Now, however, I'm glowing with the day old pea soupy green color from 3 days of sea sickness. I've rid my body not only of toxins but of every bite of food that I've managed to gag down, as it's all come retching right back up. I have had plenty of time to meditate as I lean my throbbing head over the ship's rail for my post-prandial hork. I've meditated on how much I despise the other passengers on this cruise who are happily throwing back fruity, overpriced umbrella drinks and taking photos of each other with their arms around the overworked crew. I've meditated on what method I will use to murder my ex-friend who recommended these less than useless wrist magnets.
I've also meditated on the distinct possibility that when we reach our first port, I will abscond rather than reboard. I will become an ex-pat, an islander. I will stand on the shore and watch the ships arrive and depart but never go with them. Right now, it sounds a lot better than another day of barfing!
submitted for Thursday Short Story Slam, Week 9, at Bluebell Books