Captain's Log

Captain’s Log, Parenthood Date: 1684

It has been an uneventful week. The tiny natives have been more subdued than usual as they recovered from the sickness that ravaged the island. However, recent events prove that they are fast returning to their usual selves. I found Chunkacabra injured, bleeding heavily from the knee.  Upon following the trail of blood, the culprit was discovered: a stray head of a shaving razor. My Co-Captain assures me that he takes pains to deposit such hazardous waste in the garbage. But cabinet locks and stinking waste receptacles are no match against the elder two natives, who look for trouble wherever they may find it. Sassquatch has admitted to opening the garbage can, and claims that the Loch Mess Monster procured the discarded razor blade from its depths, where he then laid a clever trap aimed at Chunkacabra’s crawling knees. She will survive–this time–but I find myself worrying for her future.

I fear I have grown attached to these creatures.

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Captain's Log

Captain’s Log, Parenthood Date: 1678

A plague has befallen the island, poisoning the entire population of tiny natives. Even my Co-Captain has been affected. I remain the only one left standing. I fear what may happen when this sickness inevitably takes me too as, while the tiny natives are incapable of caring for themselves regularly, they now require even more intensive care. Add to this the fact that sickness of the smallest kind reduces my Co-Captain to nothing more than a groaning lump of flesh, and you have an island teetering on the precipice of disaster. If I too succumb, this place is as good as lost.

I cannot fall.

Captain's Log

Captain’s Log, Parenthood Date: 1660

Supplies are low, and tensions are high. My Co-Captain and I have nearly come to blows this morning, arguing over the remains of our dwindling food supply. As always, the tiny natives defended him, taking his side in things. They are unconcerned that he consumed my portion of the carefully rationed delicacy known as “pop-tarts,” in addition to his own. The tiny natives were able to have their portion without issue, and therefore turn a blind eye to my plight. I expect nothing more.

I am trying to keep my spirits up, though hunger gnaws at my belly. The Fifth Day has brought replenishment of our currency, and we will venture out to procure more supplies soon. I only hope I will not fade before then.

Captain's Log

Captain’s Log, Parenthood Date: 1659

The mornings are the bleakest. Today especially, the tiny natives have punished me for the grave crime of not being my Co-Captain. It is barely 0900 hours, and I have been kicked, flailed upon, and made to suffer the piercing cry of the Loch Mess Monster. He is the most attached to the Co-Captain, though the Chunkacabra rivals his affection in many ways. My only reprieve is that Sassquatch has not yet awoken. She seems more attached to sleep than to any human, which is both a blessing and a curse. Her slumber is peaceful, but there is often violence when she is made to abandon it. I fear what might happen when she wakes.

Captain's Log

Captain’s Log, Parenthood Date: 1658

I fear my Co-Captain is losing his mind. I was ill upon waking this morning, thrusting him into the captain’s duties alone. For twelve hours, he has cared for the tiny natives with little reprieve. However, he is not accustomed to this burden, as I am, and has shown several signs of impending insanity. Concerning behaviors include: a twitching eye, random bouts of shouting, and obsessive repetition of one phrase (“STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!”). To add to my concern, I have noticed several times that he appears to be covered in drool. I cannot say for certain whether the drool was his own. I can only hope the tiny natives will tire soon, lest I lose my Co-Captain altogether.

I, on the other hand, am well-rested and feeling much better. It cannot last.