Write about: the boat.
Work was busy this morning. Definitely still a lot of tourists in town after the long weekend, as the pastries flew off the shelf while the loaves moved at a more stately pace. I imagine it'll be more of the same tomorrow.
Sue biked down from where her and Jake are staying this week in order to keep Max entertained while I was working. No easy task, but it sounds like she was up to the challenge. By the time I returned for lunch Jake had arrived with the car and the fun was fully in progress.
After lunch I dropped Max off with his aunt and uncle at a park and went dishwasher shopping. Going to have a look in Penticton tomorrow afternoon to see what else is available.
Also got Max a bat and ball so he can practice his blast ball skills at home. I think that's the happiest I've ever seen a gift make him.
It washed ashore, gaping holes in its hull and all, six days ago. The response from the castaways had been unanimously positive. Even Nancy had seemed excited and hopeful, and she had spent most of the previous month explaining to each survivor, in grim detail, precisely how they were going to die.
We can do this, we said. We can make this boat seaworthy again. We can sail it home.
But then Timothy disappeared the next day. There was some confusion about what he'd been doing last. Some thought he was in the jungle, foraging for wood to be used to plug the holes. Others thought he'd been working from inside the boat. Regardless, he was gone.
Then Morris vanished that night, while everyone was sleeping. It was suggested that he may have gone sleep walking again, but this time ended up in the ocean.
The next morning, Tasha was gone. No one could think of why. No one had any idea of how.
Owen followed suit. Then Linda. Sarah and Nancy went together, just this morning.
Now it's just me. Well, me and the boat. But not for long. One of us has to go, I'm quite certain of that.
So today I'm setting that thing on fire.