The Loneliness of the Long Distance SwimmerPart 2Subtitled: Loris a Many Splendoured Thing Elijah was on his island for several months. Occasionally - very occasionally the solitary vice palled on him, and he decided he needed help in that area. He trained the loris, whom he named "Sblom", for reasons best known to himself, to hold his penis in its tiny hands. Unfortunately for Elijah, the loris - of the genus Slow Loris...."Very Fucking Slow", as Elijah remarked when he discovered the fault - couldn't get a grip with its tiny, padded fingers, and ended up jabbing itself in the eye as the erectile tissue collided with its features. The loris has a very big eye. Elijah Wood has a very big dick. The loris has very small hands. Elijah gave up. His hands were just the right size. He used them to great effect. "Fuck me with your big dick, you sexy thing!", Elijah cried out into the night sky, disturbing two flamingos who'd popped in for a short nap, and causing coitus interruptus between two consenting turtles, as the male fell, ass backwards, off the female. As the male turtle had taken over an hour to manoeuvre into the correct position, the female turtle was not fucking pleased. Friendly relations having been resumed with the loris, it promptly died when an over production of ejaculate hit it square in the face, causing a cerebral accident. Elijah buried little Sblom under a palm tree with a little sign scrawled on a piece of driftwood that bore the legend "Cave Loris". Cave Elijah, he thought, dejectedly, as he prepared his banana and coconut milk shake breakfast. Suddenly a voice shattered the silence. "Ahoy, there!" a voice called from a boat in the shallows. Elijah leapt to his feet. Another fucking human being! In his haste to reach his fellow creature, Elijah tripped over a trailing vine, and knocked himself out on a tree root. When he came round, he found himself lying in a bunk on a ship, with a doctor leaning over him in a concerned manner. "You have concussion, Mr Wood", the doctor intoned. Elijah stared, blinking, at the three of him. "Get some rest!" Elijah complied. The ship slowly drifted into a fog bank. It was thick and noissome. "Where are we?", asked Elijah, propping himself up on his elbow. The firework display behind his eyes grew brighter. "Somewhere off the coast of Bermuda.", the doctor informed him, shoving a thermometer in his ear. Yes. "Why do I get a bad feeling about that?", he wondered, as the doctor pulled the sheets down, and pressed his belly. The doc left. Elijah drifted off, just like the ship. He fell into a coma, and didn't wake up until the ship docked in New York. "Um,", the captain said, as Elijah approached the gangplank. "There's something you ought to know!" Elijah sat on some luggage, stunned. They had drifted into a Time Warp? Fuck that! "How, er...long?" He asked, not wanting to know. "Fifty years into the future, I'm afraid!", the captain apologised profusely, as if it were his fault. Elijah looked at the dockside, saw the hover trollies transporting the luggage, noticed the thousands of people lining the dock, saw the sky filled with traffic...chaos. Everyone I know will be fucking ancient!, he thought wildly, or dead! "Where are you gong next?", he turned to the captain, anxiously. "Hong Kong. They want to put the ship in a museum, there!" "Okay! I'm coming, too! Fuck this!" Elijah caught a rare form of flu from the captain's cat, and spent the entire journey in quarantine. **Cave - Beware, in Latin** |