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Water, water, everywhere, so little left to drink. The sun pounds down upon me like a storm. I wish that the storm had not left us. We both need the cool, cold rain. The sun is a sadist, relentlessly seeking to torture us. The storms pity us, and give up their precious supply of water to help us out. The night may be cool, but storms are what bring the most comfort, even if they do occasionally toss me out of the boat. I know they’re just playing. I was sad to see the last one go, but I knew it was getting tired from losing that much water. Like I am.
Food and water will likely run out within the next week. Its running out so fast. Between me and Hamlet, Hamlet eats the most. Or maybe it's just my imagination. The all this time without refuge from the waves of heavy sunlight has been a huge blow on my mind. But, I’m still certain that Hamlet has been eating the most. And drinking the most.
I look over at him. Despite being out in the sun for so long, his skin has remained a light shade of pink. He’s resting his head against the wall of the boat, gazing out across the sea. My last friend in this vast, endless void of shimmering blue. Of course, we’re not really friends. He’s never shown any kindness to me. But he’s decent enough to not have attacked me or anything. He’s bald, but very light hair covers his body. He’s short, but even with this considered, he’s wider than most people I know. Or knew.
He takes a bite off an apple. At this rate, he’ll finish his ration of food before midday. And, of course, I’ll be obliged to share some of mine.
“You really should save some of that.” I say carefully, not wanting to upset him. He just replies with a grunt. Like he normally does.
All of a sudden, a hunger attack strikes with such force, I scream out in pain. Its like a horrible serpent writhing inside me. Hamlet remains unfazed. This isn’t the first time this has happened.
There must be more food. Somewhere. Something nags at the back of my fried mind. There is food. I know, it's the fish. But I can’t shake that there’s food somewhere else. With all my might, I try to force myself to sharpen my mind and clear the clouds away, but I’m too tired.
All of a sudden, a huge wave jumps up and slaps me in the face, hard. The faze leaves. My mind clears and zaps back to normal in less than a second (no doubt through the combination of trying to clear my mind, and the cold).
I look over at Hamlet, and stop breathing. How could I have been so psychologically messed up?
Before me, lies a pig. A great, big, lazy, fat, juicy pig. The pig that jumped in the largish life-boat as the main zoo-boat sunk. The pig that has been literally hogging my food and water.
A smile crosses my face. I draw my knife from my belt
“Sorry Hamlet,” I say walking slowly towards him. “But I’m afraid that I have no choice but to remove the “let” from your name.”