Alone On A Deserted island (FICTOID)

With a trumpet blast that echoed around the island, the professor marched down to the shoreline and stood on Orator Rock, as he named the huge flat stone sticking out over the lagoon.

Dutifully, a mermaid swam up.  “What is it this time?” she asked.  “Another book review?”

“It’s always the same book,” the professor said.  “The 1983 Farmer’s Almanac.”

“Yes, I know,” said the mermaid with a grimace.

“Where are the others?  Why the draconian decrease in attendance?”

“They’re not coming.  Not now, not ever,” said the mermaid.

“Oh?  And why not?”

“Because you’re boring,” said the mermaid.  “Boring and mad, but mostly boring.”

“Why -- I have half a mind to pump this lagoon dry,” said the professor.

“Oh, please…,” said the mermaid.  “Don’t bother.  You’ve only got an inch of sanity left.  Just relax and ‘be’ -- stop trying to ‘be’.”

“Ah, excellent advice,” said the professor.

“May I go now?”

“Yes, yes.  Of course you may.”

And with that the mermaid, a figment of his imagination, vanished.

I must face reality, the professor thought.  

He walked into the lagoon, the water soon rising above his head.  No matter; he was in search of a new audience.

I’ll find some aquatic organism and raise it up, all the while repeating my favorite lectures of the last 10 years.

He kept looking and looking and was looking still when his body washed out to sea.

© Buzz Dixon