Dan Christmann wrote:
It was difficult for me to adjust at first. Back when I played for the.... Well, that’s all in the past now. But the point is that, when I washed up on the island after explosion and my improbable survival inside the airplane’s toilet facilities, I was used to being extraordinary. If I walked down the street, even in some nowhere place in Oklahoma, not five minutes would pass by before someone would recognize me. The paparazzi soon followed after. I had my own signature line of toiletries. But it was really only because of my arms. I realize this now, that society, that the league, that even my wife and long series of casual affairs, were only because of my arms. Because of my arms I was able to reach over people’s heads. I could just stand under the basket, reach up and stuff the ball in. I scored hundreds, thousands of points this way.
Opening my eyes on that first day on the beach, bleary with the sun and the salt crusting my eyelids, I saw a pair of arms reaching out to me. They helped me up, they took me in, they fed me. And the first day I played against those arms, one on one in the vast, cyclopean court at the center of the island, I realized that I could not reach over them. And that here, where arms grow to abnormal length, possibly because the nuclear experiments conducted here on the eve of world war two, I realized that I could never reach over anyone again. From then on out I would be forced to play, and play for my life. Nothing comes easy here.
I have never been happier.
Dana Lee wrote:
Dear Diary,
I have been sitting here on the Island de la Paraiso for the past month. I have to admit that at first I thought I was going to hate it. But OMG, I love it! First of all, they have the hottest cheerleaders a basketball player could only imagine. Then there is the food. I am drooling just thinking about it. You see, here on this island, they do not allow meat to be killed. They cherish their animals almost to the point of worship. So this means I have never eaten so healthy in my life. I would love to stay and chat more but I have a massage appointment and there is no way I am going to miss that!
Maybe I will be off the island soon,
Who knows?
Chuck C. wrote:
The waves crashed against the lavish yacht, thrashing it around the warm waters of the south china sea. The storm had come so suddenly that the crew didn’t seem prepared to handle it. Its occupants were considered among the richest and most influential figures in politics, sports, and industry. To one of the occupant's though, he was the only one that mattered. Jason Keenning was the NBA's rising star, drafted to the Boston Celtics this year right out of Duke University as a point guard. Enjoying the off season in his own private yacht was his favorite past-time. This time though, it would bring him on a journey that would forever change his life.
Panicked at the storm, he went above deck and grabbed the nearest life preserver. A large wave crashed over the boat, capsizing it. His large frame was picked up and flung from the boat, his vision went dark and he lost consciousness.
He had no idea how long it was he was out. A cool breeze washed over him, bringing him back from the land of the sleeping. His eyes struggled open to see he was laying down on a straw cot in a small bamboo hut. He heard from across the room someone walking towards him. As his vision cleared he saw the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Dressed in a bright white free flowing dress, a bright orange flower in her jet black hair.
She walked over to him, “Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Keening.” Her voice was soft and warm. She felt his forehead, “Your fever has subsided it seems.” Her light brown hands were the softest things to ever touch his forehead. “I think you’re ready to meet the king,” she said.
“The king?” he said, puzzled. “Where am I?” He asked.
“All will be revealed in time,” she said, grabbing his hand.
She helped him up and guided him out of the small hut and into a picturesque tropical village. Around him were people of all colors and ages going about their daily tasks. Everyone had a smile on their face. Some worked on their gardens, some worked mills and livestock pens, and others washed clothes. The warm smell of cooking filled the air. Just walking through the village gave Jason a sense of Euphoria, like he had finally found bliss.
The woman led him through the paths of the village. As they made it to the center, he saw a large circular hut adorned with many tropical flowers. She looked back at him and smiled. “Come in. The king has been dying to meet you,” she cooed. She led him by the hand and parted the beaded drapes that hung in the doorway. The inside of the hut was lined with piles of fruit, flowers, and palm leaves.
At the center, on a throne made of bamboo and palm leaves sat a familiar face with a gold crown on his head and flowers adoring his body: Former Russian President Vladimir Putin. Next to his throne was a large plate of cream cheese danishes.
“Mr. Keenning, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Putin said. He snapped his fingers towards one of the many bikini-clad women surrounding his throne. She grabbed the plate of danishes and walked it over to the imposing athlete. “Try the danishes; I had the world’s best baker brought to my slice of paradise. He lives with us now, a part of our community. They will change your life.”
Keenning grabbed a one of them and hesitantly took a bit, still confused. His bewilderment was soon forgotten as the most delicious substance he had ever tasted pasted his lips. His eyes rolled back and his knees weakened.
“I told you,” the crowned Putin said, “You washed up on our shores nearly a month ago. Many thought you were dead, but Mei here nursed you back to health. I for one am glad. That’s one thing our paradise was missing: an athlete.”
“Where am I?” Keenning asked, still euphoric from the danish.
“I do not know the real name of this island, we just refer to it as Paradise. You see, Mr. Keenning, I have lived a life of savagery, of brutality,” he said with a thick Russian accent, “When I found paradise, I knew I was finally home. This island has brought solace and healing to all who have discovered it. I hope it will for you as well.”
The athlete thought about his proposal. He looked around. He never felt so at peace in his life, never felt he was worth anything before he came here. He couldn’t explain it, such a short time here and he felt like he had lived there for his whole life.
“Well King, I think you just found your athlete,” he said with a smile, taking another bite of his Danish.
“Nothing has pleased me more in months, Mr. Keenning. Nothing,” Putin said, choking up slightly, “Welcome home.”
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