Another week, another short story, eh? This one is a torrid time of it. A tale about being trapped on a desert island with only limited supplies to live off.
Limited supplies that, at the very least, leave the stranded individual smelling lovely for when he’s (hopefully) rescued.
Scents of Old Spice in Living Off Aftershave
Okay so this is all a TL;DR summary from my diary of everything that’s happened over the last 12 days to get you up to speed.
- Day -1. Happily cruising getting drunk and enjoying the sights. SPRING BREAK, WHOO!
- Day 0. Got a bit sunburned earlier but otherwise had a mega day and impressed this babe by belly flopping from the main deck into the ocean. She knows now that I’m marriage material!
- Day 2. SHIP’S DOWN!!! SHIP’S DOWN!!! Hit a rock and sank like a rock, too, which is kind of ironic. Or apt. Not sure which one, the dehydration is kicking in.
- Day 4. Oh yeah, stranded on this 20ft by 20ft exotic island out in the middle of the ocean. Got a few cans of beer and baked beans to keep my company while I wait for the rescuers to turn up.
- Day 7. Still stranded and everyone is still dead.
- Day 9. Where the bloody hell are the rescue teams?! Not seen a single plane or helicopter! Down to the last tin of baked beans.
- Day 10. The last tin of baked beans is gone.
- Day 12. All that is left is aftershave. Is that even edible?!
So, while stranded on this small island a big mass of aftershave boxes washed up from the shore. They must have sprung out of the sunken ship and floated on over to me as some sort of message from God I guess. A message being I need to keep myself spick and span on this here island and not let myself get unkempt. Message understood!
With limited food around I’ve had to resort to:
- Trying to fish.
- Eating my toenails.
- Eating my bogeys and earwax.
The bad news is I can’t figure out how to fish. I run into the water to get the fish, but they swim away like a bolt of lightening. I tried to fashion a fishing rod out of my hair for the fishing line and someone’s severed arm from the wreck that floated over as flotsam. That didn’t work either and then a shark just turned up and ate the arm!
I’m not going near the water again with that shark about. I’ve seen Jaws. I know what happens with this those bloody things.
There was nothing else for it from day 14.
With over 300 bottles of aftershave, and 12 of those aftershave type cream alternatives, at my disposal I decided to pig out. I drank several bottles of the fragrance I liked the best, which has hints of Calabrian bergamot, with a woody aftertaste that suggests a noble and wild manly presence. After drinking a few of them I felt very odd indeed and can report the following:
- Stuff coming back up out of my mouth rather than remaining in my stomach (not sure what that’s all about).
- This really odd thing where if I stood up, I’d fall back over.
- I was no longer awake for a short period and came to in a heap on the floor. I’m not sure what this is called… excessive sunburn, I presume, or a bout of chickenpox.
I was even forcing myself to drink the stuff, my very being battling against this choice and trying to get me to stop, but it come bursting out of my nostrils… that was a weird one. I’m really discovering some interesting things about my anatomy while I stuck on this godforsaken island.
Day 18
By day 18 I was getting used to the taste of the aftershaves and their various flavours. I didn’t like the cream-based one, though, and decided to use that as a kind of suntan lotion instead. Because this island has almost no shelter, apart from the one palm tree residing here. At certain times of day, it casts a pleasant shadow over the island.
The rest of the time, I’ve got nothing but the harsh brutality of that son of a bitch Sun beaming down on me all day and night! Okay, well not the night. Because that’s when the Moon comes out.
Getting desperate for a proper meal, on this day I stuck my right leg into the water hoping it’d entice fish to come and munch on it (at which point I’d try to grab them). A risky strategy, but I realise a survival situation needs such heroics.
No fish turned up, not even the shark, although a crab did hustle over and nip my big toe. Bastard.
Day 19, 20, 21, and 22
Drank 35 bottles of aftershave during this period. By that point I was smelling so manly I began to get quite attracted to myself. Just as well there aren’t any women on the island, they’d all be wanting me to propose to them.
Day 23
Think I had an aftershave hangover on this day because I felt pretty rotten. Had another spell of being not awake, which is getting annoying. I wish a doctor was on the island to diagnose these strange tropical diseases!
Day 24
SAW THE FIRST RESCUE PLANE! It zoomed over in the distance. I decided to scrawl out a giant SOS on the island but, in a bit of haze, this ended up spelling out as AFTERSOSHAVE… I really need to get off this island.
Day 30
More planes but they don’t seem to be able to see me on the island!!! Panicked, I edited the AFTERSOSHAVE down to SOS and sat next to it all day drinking aftershave. Bored, I counted the empty bottles all around me—some 201 bottles!
Day 40
No one is coming to rescue me. I’ve now come to believe this whole experience is a test from God about how much aftershave one man can drink. Answer? A lot! A heck of a lot. But my dwindling supplies now mean even that will soon be out of reach.
Then what!? Drinking seawater, I guess.
I’ve arranged all the empty aftershave bottles into a giant SOS and with the rest I’ve built myself a smell hut. In there, I get some respite from the beating Sun.
I’m not sure if anyone will ever find this diary. If you do, please hand it over to the authorities and let it be known that I, Kevin, spent 40 days out here drinking aftershave and exploring humanity in extremes. You must learn from my trauma.
And the lesson is this—DON’T GO ON EXPENSIVE CRUISES! Choose a staycation instead.
For those who find my immaculately smelling corpse, have it be known that the best aftershave flavours include bergamot and a hint of activated charcoal. Go forth into the street and let it be known!
[Diary entries end here]
