Desert Island

Sitting back in his squeaky office chair, Garten thoroughly rubs the thinning spots on his once shaggy head, mulling over past achievements and wondering if Dental College would have been a better choice of professions. Belching out a fuming trouser gasp, Garten rises from his daliance and begins to scratch his once active member, Stormcrow, perched placidly on a corner of the seriously eroding oaken desk. "Hmmm, How do I retrieve Mariah from that crusty old wombat, dude?" Stormcrow purrs at his masters attentions, blinks and a thought seeps into his clouded consciousness. "Sardines," Stormcrow whispers. "She loves sardines... and saltines, Master Garten. She loves them, she does." The oblivious Garten coughs and horks up a juicy phlegm burger from the depths of his blackening lungs, chews slowly and swallows another piece of his own matter. Completely ignoring Stormcrows comments, Garten remembers the Glitter marathon on the Women's Channel, and rushes to find his remote.

Footsteps in the hallway are nearly silent and a hand reaches for the doorknob. Long, emaciated fingers wrap around the polished brass and.....

(C'mon Cygg, you can join in at any time...)