Thursday, October 1, 2015

Stranded. True Tales from an Outnumbered Mother

It's been three days, since the crew and I were stranded, separated from the Mysterious Captain we all adore. Whatever respiratory disease tried to take over my body seems to have given up. If I had expected the crew to rejoice over my improving health... Well, we can safely assume that was a side effect of my impaired status.
I suspect the crew may be planing a coup. 
The Curly Haired One shrieks in code throughout the day, alternatively irritating and amusing the Tall Redheaded One. They seem to be struggling to find the balance of power between them. 
The Small Mostly Bald One seems to be torn between allegiances. 

I discovered that allowing the Curly Haired One and Tall Redheaded One to watch a documentary on small pocket creatures seems to sate feelings of unrest. I know this is only a temporary solution to the problem though.

I can only pray that the disease retreats quickly, and I can regain the allegiance of the crew before things become unspeakable.


Our supply of fresh provisions was running low. I suggested a small foraging expedition to help replenish our stores. I also hoped that the expedition would serve as a distraction over the bid for power that is looming closer by the hour.
The Curly Haired One expressed dismay, horror and outrage over most aspects of the outing. He stated that the craft was not correct multiple times. He petitioned for a craft decorated with bright colors and wheels, in place of the simple utilitarian craft we possessed.  Shortly after that, he expressed bitter disappointment over the produce we were able to procure. At one point, he became adamant in his desire to have sweetbread.
We made it back to camp safely, where I plied the Curly Haired One with fresh bananas.
If I were not in charge of this motley crew, I would be tempted to mutiny myself.

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