flarn flarn filth

Honey, I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to have been rescued from that desert island. And although I spent four years, two months and sixteen days dreaming nonstop of the day I would be back in your arms, I know it’s going to take some time for us to get reacclimated to each other. Fortunately, the company is hoping to forestall a lawsuit by providing all of us who were stranded on what the media have called “the longest corporate retreat ever” with group therapy to deal with our survivor guilt. One of the things they told us during our first session today was that the first step to rebuilding our lives is to be honest about the inevitable changes caused by our very different experiences. After all, neither of us is the same person we were the weekend before New Year’s 2008- wait, is it the year that’s ending or the year that’s beginning? Well, you know, 2007 going in to 2008. See, this is one of the many things I’m going to have to relearn as I integrate myself back into society. Oh also, I may need a quick refresher course on how to use silverware after we get done with this family meeting.
The stress of daily life among the twelve who managed to swim to shore after Mr. Amparo’s Gulfstream V crashed into the ocean was overwhelming at times, and for me it was only compounded by the guilt of knowing that you had asked me not to go. As we learned to feed ourselves, finally discovered an effective method for desalination after numerous failed prototypes, and found shelter in caves after a storm destroyed the housing we had built from airplane debris and palm leaves, the other men and women on the island gradually became a family, bonded forever through our struggles. We built a functioning society that was loosely based on our corporate hierarchy, which meant that I wound up doing a lot of the physical labor and drew a disproportionate percentage of overnight panther-watch duties.
A couple of things you should know. For starters, I hope you’ll understand that I didn’t adhere to a strictly vegetarian diet. I need you to be prepared for the possibility that you might walk into me eating a ham sandwich at three a.m. in the kitchen in the dark, my face adorned with a grizzled, thousand-yard stare as I remember the occasional slaughter of a wild pig, for those were the only times our bellies felt full. As for the other thing you’re probably wondering about: although the temptation was there on several occasions, none of us ever strayed from our spouses. It was pretty close; I’ll be honest. The plane that found us flew overhead the day before we had scheduled a vote to finally give up and get buck wild, and the “for” side had really gained traction since the last time we had voted on it. Our cuddle sessions were strictly for survival, as it got pretty cold at night, and I should add that on my request, the company has also provided body pillows with faces painted on them. As an exercise, the therapist recommended that we name them together.