What I am about to relate occurred, in actuality, several days ago. I have only just recovered enough to speak of the event that will forever be known on this island as “The Egg-Drop Incident.”
I had taken terribly ill. So weakened was I that I could not even muster the strength to prepare food for myself. Hunger overtook me, until finally, I sent out a distress call. My mother, a fine Captain herself, caught my signal. She offered to come to my aid, even traveling out of her way to the neighboring island of Crouching Dragon. There she procured a food with mystical healing properties, known as “Egg-Drop Soup.” She also generously arrived bearing other delicacies: Bourbon Chicken, Lo Mein, Spring Rolls. I was delirious with hunger, and also with happiness. I opened the container of soup, along with everything else, but alas, I needed a spoon.
As I began to go to fetch our silverware, the Loch Mess Monster stood in his chair. He dropped trou. I asked him if he needed to use the restroom, which he answered with a resounding roar of a “NO!” I was too hungry to question–too out of my mind with fatigue to consider the repercussions of my actions. I believed him. I left him, half-clothed, at the table. I washed a spoon… But never had the chance to use it.
I returned to find my egg roll soggy. Nay, not soggy–floating. Messy had lied, his bladder even smaller than his sense of shame. In his frenzy, he had left me with nothing. The open container of soup? It had been yellow to begin with. I could not discern if it had been contaminated. Perhaps a braver man would have taken the chance, but I was unwilling to risk it. The Lo Mein; the Bourbon Chicken… Every last bit of desperately-needed food that had been brought had been urinated upon, rendered hopelessly inedible. I went hungry that day.
I would like to say that I have fully recovered from this tragedy–that I can look at a bowl of soup without a profound sadness–but I do not know if I ever will.