Dana Lee wrote:
This is the true story of Officer Bacon. He was last seen
stranded on the island of Hamtown which is close to Pigsville. Bacon was born
and raised in Philadelphia. He spent most of his days on the playground playing
basketball with his friends. He had to leave Philly when guys, who were up to
no good, started making trouble. Bacon attended the police academy in
Pigsville. He graduated at the top of his class. Immediately after graduation
he was offered the position as sea captain where he would patrol the waters
five days a week.
One day it went all horribly wrong...
The winds were strong. But Officer Bacon did not request help. He
thought he could handle it on his own. The currents were the strongest they
have ever been. The waves were crashing along every side of the boat. Just as
the storm passed, Bacon knew he was in trouble. The boat was destroyed and he
was on an island he had never seen before. However, Officer Bacon would never ask
for anyone’s help to get off the island. He knew he could do it by
himself. He was smarter than anyone he knew.
Days passed.
Months passed.
Years passed.
Officer Bacon was found crispy and dead in the sun by young
Officer Hamson.
Chuck C. wrote:
Detective Dixon Hill. The Island of Balhoa's best detective. The fact that he happened to be its only occupant, though, was thought to have something to do with his high station. Marooned on the small tropical island many years ago, Detective Hill learned to pass his time by solving the many mysteries the island had to offer. His dedicated investigative work uncovered the mystery of the disappearing coconuts, with Muggums the monkey still sitting behind bamboos shoots today for his crimes. His intuition and insight ferreted out the notorious Bobo the chimpanzee, wanted for years for being the island's biggest illicit banana dealer. Hill lived a long and productive life, walking into eternity at the ripe old age of 82. The monkeys built a monument to him at the peak of the island's mountain, paying tribute to his work for the island. I felt it was important to tell you this story, as its rarely heard beyond the island of Balhoa, but it deserves to be.
Melody Joy wrote:
Jeff Lexington grew up in the lazy coast town of Magnolia Springs, Alabama where his family was the richest in town and were therefore able to send him and his five younger siblings to the nice colleges out of state. Although his five younger siblings did indeed go to nice colleges out of state, Jeff chose a local community college because he figured that he could learn just as well without leaving town. His choice had nothing to do with his low grade point average or general lack of interest in pursuing any trade in particular.
After his parents died and their money was divided evenly between the six siblings, the twenty-three grandchildren belonging to Jeff’s siblings, and various charities and Christian organizations, Jeff moved out of the big house and into a smaller house. With the family money nearly dried up and the local police force in need of a few good men since the Baxter brothers moved to California to try to become movie stars, Jeff got a job.
It wasn't his first job as some would later claim, as he had previously worked in the mail room at his father’s office. It was, however, his first full-time job, and he resented having to work with less intelligent men and in a position which required very little mental effort. He was, after all, a college graduate. He kept his diploma hanging proudly on the wall of his house, and it declared that he was the proud owner of an Associate’s Degree in the area of General Studies. That meant that he had studied every subject available and therefore was an expert on everything.
One particularly boring Sunday afternoon, he was in the shipyard and decided to try his hand at sailing. After all, his father had showed him how to sail once and he had spent many days on the boat with his parents watching his father sail the boat. He rented a small sailboat from the local rental shop, reassuring the skeptical teenager working the counter that he could indeed sail any ship in the yard. He was after all, a Lexington, and all Lexingtons knew how to sail a boat. Why, it was in their blood!
Bumping only into three boats, two docks, and seven buoys, he soon found himself in open water. He figured out how to open the sails, and soon the wind had filled them. He turned the wheel carefully as he had seen his father do many times, and stood confidently at the helm as the wind filled the sails and carried him far out into the sea. Yes, he was always meant to be a man of the sea. Here, the air was clear and he could think deep thoughts without having to worry about inferiors or law enforcement to interrupt them.
Two days later he was ready to admit that he perhaps was a bit turned around. He was, however, grateful that he had packed three coolers full of food since he hadn’t been sure of what he wanted to eat while he was out which had led him to simply bring everything he imagined he might have wanted. Skin burnt to a deeper shade of red than he thought possible and moral beginning to ebb, he had nearly given up hope when he spotted a small island in the distance.
Having broken several of the ropes that anchored the sail in an effort to turn the ship around, Jeff sent up a desperate prayer to God along with every saint he could remember in hopes that he would make it to the island. Having lost the anchor before even leaving the port, Jeff had no choice but to crash the ship into the island. The determined little sail boat crumpled as it met the rocky shore of the island, and found its final resting place there.
Abandoning the boat there, Jeff clamored out and splashed to the land. He fell to his knees, crying, though he wasn’t entirely sure if his sobs were joyful or miserable. Either way, he was relieved to no longer be lost in the unforgiving ocean. Straightening after several minutes of uncontrollable weeping, he remembered that survival series he had seen on TV a couple years ago and realized that he would be just fine.
Jeff Lexington, police officer, was found several hours later by passing fisherman who had been told to keep an eye out for the missing sailboat. They reported that he was rubbing sticks together in hopes of lighting a rock on fire. The teenager at the rental place reported that he had never even attempted to use the radio or any of the state-of-the-art navigational systems that the beached sailboat had had.
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