Self Isolation story anyone? Here’s Castaway

Castaway

Chris „Kitty‟ Hanks looked the part.

Those years of body building and weight training meant he didn‟t have an inch of fat on his muscular body.

His biceps and triceps were on show for all the users of the Pembrokeshire beach, as he strode up and down parading in his blue Speedo swimming costume.

His fellow members of the Heads of The Valleys (Jacques Cousteau Appreciation Society) Dive Club were mightily impressed with their leader‟s six pack, but THEY weren‟t here to impress...they had six pack‟s of their own , chilling in the ice box hidden from the June sun , under a huge diving bell shaped umbrella.

Jon „Benny‟ Fitz was there to enjoy himself and laze in the sun, topping up his tan before he took to the shallow waters of the award winning beach.

Jon laughed, as poor Kitty couldn‟t work out why he wasn‟t getting the attention he deserved from the ladies, who were hiding behind their sunglasses and straw hats pretending they were sleeping.

“ You‟re supposed to put the potato down the FRONT of your costume!!!!” laughed a man in his 50‟s lying out of the sun under a sheltered canopy, covered in more body hair than a new born silverback gorilla.

The voice was „Shady‟ Adey , the third member of the quartet enjoying the Summer „Boys only‟ Tour of West Wales.

As Kitty realised his error, he kicked sand into the face of a seven stone weakling (like he had been told to do in the Charles Atlas Training Manual he had been reading up on) who dared to laugh at the lump in the rear of his costume.

“ Oi do you mind... my son is only 7 years of age!” said the enraged mother protecting her young.

“ If he can‟t stand the heat ...!” snapped back Kitty as his years of taking supplements , power bars and elephant proteins produced a spat of „Roid Rage‟.

The kid ,called Mark Spitts (by his fellow classmates because of his penchant for gobbing all the time like a Premiership Footballer), sat spitting sand thinking about ways to get his own back on the muscle-head.

The latest recruit to the diving club, was 18 year old Mike Nelson , who sat in awe as the three more experienced members discussed their exploits from around the World‟s Seven Oceans.

“ We had eight more members before you joined...they called us „Oceans 11‟ said Jon looking at Adey pretending he was George Clooney (only with more chest carpet).

“See Mike ...said Jon signalling the youngster to come closer... the secret of our club he whispered is to learn to breath through your ears!”

“ I‟m really keen on a „Sea Hunt‟...‟ I want to go to that place in the Indian Ocean you boys keep talking about...it sounds wonderful!” said the inexperienced youth, diving mask on (since the Tredegar Roundabout) but still wet behind the ears...

“ I‟ve looked on every ocean map available on the internet, but I still can‟t find this place you speak of....!” continued the gullible kid.

“ You have to get a few more trips under your „weighted belt‟ before we can take you there !” said Adey.

“ That island sounds a paradise...full of Bounty bars and natives...I really want to see this narrow inlet of Muff!” squealed the boy.

“ So you really want to go Muff Diving...!” said Jon restraining his laughter.

“ Well...I too have always loved diving...just for the crack of it!” said Adey

“ My idols were always Hans & Lotte Haas...I have their training manual...I always have my hands on Lotte‟s Hass when I go down...what about you Jon?” continued Adey still winding up the newcomer.

They all nodded agreement whilst staying completely stoic, like the first time they each bumped into a shark underwater.

“ Anyway, it‟s about time we gave our latest recruit his initiation to the Diving Club!” said Jon.

“ What‟s that...?” asked Mike Nelson nervously.

“ I haven‟t got to stroke an electric eel like last time?” he said nervously.
“ Nothing THAT shocking!” said Adey

“ We have to bury you up to your neck in the sand at the low water mark, to test that you can learn how to breathe underwater!” announced Jon gold medallion twinkling through his Bee Gee chest hair.

“See this trinket...it is my lucky charm ...it saved my life once!” said Jon reminiscing placing the 1 carat gold necklace ceremonially around the kids boil filled neck .

“ It was on my first ever dive...I was about your age and I used to go to town to the Tiffany‟s Nightclub...and my gold medallion was part of my Saturday Night Fever outfit...I used to look smart , all in white with a big wide collar....!” said Jon still fancying himself.

“ Where was Tiffany‟s?” asked the youngster.

“It was where Argos is now...anyway...I had got my mixtures wrong and I did a „Drunken‟ Goodhew and took a swallow dive of the first floor balcony...I tried to catch one of the trees to break my fall and luckily my medallion got caught in one of the branches.....!” continued Jon Travolting.

His sidekick Adey interrupted the story and said-:

“ It‟s true...I had to cut him from down the tree...he was going blue...I had to give him mouth-to mouth....and we have been „buddy breathers‟ ever since.

“ Thank God it wasn‟t one of those plastic Tiffany Palm trees or he would be in Davey Jones locker right now!” said Adey

As they finished the tale, Mike Nelson suddenly realised he had been buried up to his neck in sand and the first of the waves from the ebbing tide broke like a white horse over his neck...sending a cold chill down through the sand to his gold medallion and buried treasure below.

As the devious pair made a few sandcastles on each side of his ears, Kitty picked up the airbed from the blazing sand and placed it under „his guns‟ as he made his way to the sea.

The air bed was piping hot to touch , so he picked up Jon‟s 1970‟s Brutus Jeans and placed them on the inflatable mattress , in order that he could sit down and used his „Gilbert‟ rugby ball as extra head support.

As he paddled out just beyond the breakers, using just the strength in two of his fingers, the diving equivalent of Popeye, decided to attach himself by his G-string mankini , to the orange marker buoy located on the edge of the start of the deeper water.

Placing his sunglasses over his eyes, he looked like a muscle-bound Ferris Bueller on his day off.

As he drifted off to sleep, he didn‟t notice the air bubbles of the 7 year old kid, Mark Spitts as he surfaced and slipped the G string attachment off from its mooring .
The kid „waved‟ goodbye, as the sand bully began to drift on the outgoing tide passed the safety of the little haven.

The other members of the club were too busy abusing their latest victim to notice, as they shouted encouragingly “ Breathe through your ears Mike!” at every seventh wave.

Oblivious to everything, bar the heat of the sun, the naked paramedic sailed on, blissfully getting redder and redder, as his shape got smaller and smaller until he became a dot on the horizon , heading for the deeper water and the busy shipping lanes between Wales and Ireland.

Suddenly, beneath his body he felt a nudge in the small of his back from far below.

As he opened his eyes he realised he was miles out to sea, too far to swim back.

Although he was „ripped‟ so was the tide and he knew that the undercurrent would be fatal.

The bump came again and he realised that he was in an area used as a play region by grey seals.

This also made him conscious that there were likely to be sharks close by.

The sound of a ship‟s hooters blaring startled him even more.

Bearing down on him was a Turkish Ferry marked „Mani Marmera‟

The Captain looked English but the rest of the passengers and cargo looked Foreign.

He could tell he was English, as he was wearing a Newcastle United shirt with the name Paul Gascoigne emblazed on his back.

Kitty realised that they must be part of the „Free Palestine Convey‟...as the Captain was wearing the „Gazza Strip‟.

He was worried that the vessel would sink him , as they were on a collision course.

He delicately stood up on the airbed for three seconds and began to signal the boat using the Brutus „Flares‟.

The sight of a naked man this far out to sea, was assumed to be a mirage by the Arab Terrorist „Carlos the Camel‟.

Signalling to the Captain to change course, he slung an orange lifebelt overboard towards the hapless Kitty balancing on two inches of rubber and air.

As they pulled Kitty from the water by the crew , he looked around at the goods being transported by the peace convoy.

“ Are those grenades?” asked the naked Kitty.
“ No ...they are devices for creating holes in the ground to plant food!” said Carlos.

“ What about those Uzi‟s then? “ asked Kitty nervously.

“ They are for making holes to hang up pictures of Allah on our walls...there has been a shortage of hammers and nails in the „Holy‟ Land for years...we even had to stopped crucifying people !” said Yousef Tientee.

Looking down at the naked body of Kitty...Carlos suddenly began to turn cold towards Kitty....” Are you Jewish?” he said looking down at his circumcised member suspiciously as he raised his iron bar.

“ Look ....behind you....David Ben Gurion...!” said Kitty using the oldest distraction trick in the Koran, before swallow diving magnificently over the side of the ship.

Through a hail of sub-machine bullets, Kitty used up the last of his nine lives, as he swam as fast as his own „Guns‟ would let him.

In the far distance, he could make out a small rocky island ....he hoped that he could make it there.

Just as he was beginning to tire in the fast flowing waters a miracle happened.

His rugby ball „Gilbert‟ floated passed ...he grabbed it gratefully with his huge „Popeye‟ arm showing above the waves his tattoo of „Olive Oyl‟

As he reached the shallows of the island , he had other oil to contend with as the black „Sea Empress‟ slick was still lapping ashore.

Just as he could feel the „bends‟ coming on he surfaced and grabbed hold of a handhold in the rock.

Climbing up the cliff face like Sylvester Stallone , he heartlessly shoved birds nests and eggs from their nesting ledges down to the sea , as he did his best to survive the experience.

He did not want to end up in Davey Jones Locker either.

The experienced paramedic nearly passed out several times but fortunately he gave himself heart massage and brought himself around.

Scraping over the top edge of the rocky outcrop , he collapsed exhausted breathing more heavily, than he usually did on the women‟s running machine at JJB sports.

When he finally stood up he was alone bar his friend „Gilbert‟

He was castaway.

Over the next few weeks Chris „Kitty‟ Hanks grew a beard and learned to live like Bear Grylls (only without the five star hotel accommodation).
He had run out of his „Scuba snacks‟ and was forced to catch and eat the seabirds and their eggs to survive.

He had to drink rain water from rock pools on the cliff face.

After two weeks and nearing death from over exposure to the sun the naked Chris woke one morning to find two uniformed women standing over him admiring the view.

All around him were little bones of sea birds that Chris „Kitty‟ Hanks had eaten in desperation.

“ We‟re from the Pembrokeshire Council...eco wardens...what have you done to the population of the Skomer Kittywake!” shrieked the first warden .

“ There were only ten mating pairs –unique to this island...you‟ve eaten an entire species!” said the second warden open mouthed.

“ I had to eat them to survive or else there would have been a different Kitty Wake!” protested the castaway.

“ But there‟s a bus stop down by there!” said the second warden pointing 100 yards to the base of the cliff.

Slinging the last remains and evidence of the Pembrokeshire Dodo into the sea...

The two wardens looked at each and in a PMT rage picked up the body builder and slung Kitty straight off the cliff.

Chris was cast away.