But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t not think about it.
A bare assed cheeky monkey holding a monkey cheetah.
How he’d even known it was there was enough to drive me insane.
“That’s it…” I said to no one in particular – because I’d decided the only reasonable explanation was that none of this was real – and turned on my heel to get the hell out of there.
Fork me because I was done.
Finding a naked Jesus giant was one thing – I was a relatively healthy young woman, with a great imagination – but for that very same naked Jesus giant to find a hidey hole I’d known nothing about in my bedroom was more than even my wildly creative mind could handle.
Clearly, I’d lost mine somewhere out at sea.
I supposed it was inevitable. Being alone for months on end, after watching my family slowly die off one by one, could do that to a girl.
Relatively healthy or not.
And Daddy had taught me to run when I couldn’t fight whatever I was up against, so I made a beeline for the upper deck to get away from naked Jesus giants and their monkey cheetahs who couldn’t be real. But halfway there my mind did a quick turnabout and I did an about-face to head to the sickbay.
Also known as the bar.
I was obviously in need of urgent medical care, so it didn’t feel like I was being wasteful with the limited supply of alcohol/antiseptic I had. Grabbing the first bottle I could lay hands on, I spun around again and hightailed it out onto the deck, feeling like I was suffocating.
I needed air.
And a padded room to call my own.
Taking a quick look around out of habit, Sully was nowhere to be seen – and I really hoped he wasn’t a figment of my imagination too – but no bare assed cheeky monkeys or monkey cheetahs had followed me, so I considered that a win.
Spying the mast, I decided to do my own monkey impersonation and climbed up to the boom where I sat at the juncture, letting my legs dangle off of each side. Then opening the bottle still in my grip, I sent a quick prayer to God to let me see the light and took the first drink.
But I should have been more specific.
And remembered to be careful what I wished for.
Waking up to a category 5 hurricane blowing through my skull was bad enough, but it was the sun in the sky that felt like a red hot poker searing my eyeballs that really hurt.
And I hadn’t even opened my eyes yet.
So maybe it wasn’t the sun?
Maybe I was really in Hell?
That was where I would eventually end up anyway.
But feeling the telltale spindly feet teetering across my chest, I managed to crack one eye open to see Sully staring back at me, all but demanding, “Get yo bitch ass back in the kitchen and make me some pie!”
Because in my crazy head, Sully sounded like Cartman from South Park.
“Make your own pie,” I grumbled, pushing him off of me and pushing my body to sit up, finding myself on a pallet of blankets on the deck.
As was the funky taste in my mouth.
It tasted like I’d eaten a rotten opossum – with the fur still on it – so I crawled across the deck to where I had some water stored and tried to flush the toilet that was my mouth.
The last thing I could remember was sitting up on the boom, wishing I knew a pirate song or two, but only knowing a single line of one – “Yo ho, ho it’s a pirate’s life for me,” – I’d sung it over and over until…
Until I apparently made myself a blanket nest and passed out.
Why did I do that again?
My head was still foggy on the particulars. Category 5 hurricanes were nothing to mess with – the hole in the hull of the Northern Star would attest to that – so I sat there drinking more water in the hopes that by rehydrating my body, my memory of the day before would come floating up to the top.
And it did.
Like a turd.
“Shit!” I snarled – both from remembering the cause for my bender and from the throbbing in my head thanks to the harsh sound of my own voice.
Forcing myself to stand up on shaky legs, I looked around for any signs of a naked Jesus giant or a monkey cheetah.
And I would have sworn on a stack of bibles the run aground boat was rocking in stormy seas as I made my way down to the cabin where I’d last seen him.
But again, there was no one there.
I could have convinced myself the whole thing was a dream, if it hadn’t been for the now empty hidey hole mocking me from the floorboards at the end of my bed.
I wondered where he’d gone off to and for a split second I was worried.
And then shook my head at my own ridiculousness.
He obviously knew what he was doing – survival-wise – and there was no way on God’s green Mount Banana Paradise I would be able to find him on my own, so I told myself he would show up if and when he was good and ready and went about my business.
And my first order of business was taking a bath.
I needed to get some more fresh water anyway, now that I’d consumed what was left in an attempt to flush the alcohol from my system. So I gathered the empty bottles in a sack, along with fresh clothes and a towel, and made my way to the little lake.
And my destination had nothing to do with the fact that was where I’d first spotted a naked Jesus giant.
No siree bob.
At least that was what I told myself, but when I reached the pool of fresh water, I knew I’d just been kidding myself.
I knew because I suddenly felt shy about stripping my clothes off.
Not that he hadn’t already seen all of me the first time I’d seen him there.
And I’d definitely already seen all of him.
Every time I saw him.
“You’re being stupid,” I chided myself aloud. “He doesn’t know any different. These are your hang-ups.”
He could hardly remember how to talk, much less that people normally walked around with clothes on. He was completely at ease wandering around in the buff, so if he happened along and I was buffing my bare ass in the water, then it wasn’t a big deal.
So I told myself.
Taking one last look around at both the ground and tree level, I didn’t spot any naked monkeys or monkey-shaped cheetahs, so I put my imaginary money where my mouth was and slowly peeled my clothes off before walking into the water.
It was cool on my overheated skin, but it felt nice and once I relaxed, I floated on my back, paddling my way towards the middle. Letting my eyes close, my mind eventually wandered to the list of things I needed to get done.
Which was more of a shopping list, really.
I still needed to gather some kindling to make a fire and try to find a sturdy structure somewhere on the island in case I needed a bolt hole to hide in, on the off-chance I needed my own hidey hole.
Monkey-shaped Cheetahs barely fit into the one on the boat. There was no way we could share the space.
But the only hidey hole I’d spotted so far was a downed airplane.
My heart clenched again, thinking how awful it all must have been for him, and my lips twisted into a grimace that my thoughts led straight back to him.
But I supposed it – like my insanity – was inevitable.
I couldn’t very well keep calling him Monkey – no matter how adamant he was about the name – so maybe if I could find the plane again, I could take a good look around inside of it. There had to be something with his name on it. Or his parents’ names at the very least.
If he’d been on the island since he was a little boy – and the fact he looked to be about Jason’s age – he would have been stranded there before the outbreak.
Back when most people still abided by the law.
And I was pretty sure that included having a license if you were flying a plane.
But none of that explained how in the hell he’d known about that hidey hole.
Maybe his animalistic side had sniffed it out?
That didn’t really make sense either, but at this point?
But I spoke too soon – even if it was mentally spoken – because while the evidence pointed more towards his actual existence than my actual insanity, I’d completely disregarded the fact I knew he could move with all of the sound of an ant.
An ant ghost.
Which was why I screamed to the high heavens when I felt my body bump up against another body.
A sturdy one.
And without even opening my eyes – I knew – a naked one.
At least me sinking into the water cutoff the sound of my screams. Choking to death was way better than dying from the pounding in my head, which had only been made worse by the sound of my own voice.
But because I had shit for brains, my head eventually bobbed to the surface where I sputtered and coughed, trying to dislodge the water from my lungs.
And the shitty feeling from my head.
The water was deep enough that I couldn’t even stand on my tippy toes to keep my chin above water, but naked Jesus giants didn’t seem to have that same problem.
And why would they?
Jesus could walk on water.
This particular Jesus could at least walk on the sand who-knows-how-far-underneath-my-feet, but even so, I wasn’t expecting it when he hooked his arm around my waist and pulled me flush against his front.
His naked front.
Against my naked front.
Not a big deal.
It’s not a big deal.
He doesn’t know any different, so it’s not a big deal.
But I must have been the only one to think so.
I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know one part of him felt differently.
And it was a big deal.
In fact, if I tied one corner of a sail around his neck and the other around the tip of his big deal, I could probably sail him back to the Gulf coast.
But since this was Jesus, monkeying around with him would be wrong, which was the only logical explanation for why I heard myself ask, “Is that the cross you’re forced to bear or are you happy to see me?”
He didn’t answer me – not that I really expected him to.
He was mostly mute, after all.
But being trapped in his python-like grip, my hands had nowhere to go but around his neck.
And my legs winding around his waist trapped his anaconda in between us.
Maybe Hell wouldn’t be so bad.
I was sure I would find out one way or another.
“Um…hi?” I squeaked out.
To him or his anaconda, I couldn’t be sure.
But I could be sure we both shuddered when he used his grip on my body to rub his own against mine.
So wrong had never felt so right.
So maybe I could call him Adam and change my name to Eve?
I doubted there were any apple trees on the island, so we didn’t even have to worry about another kind of snake intruding in our Garden of Eden.
When he repeated the action, my eyes rolled into the back of my head, while a part of me said I shouldn’t be doing this.
Humping Jesus in any way was surely a sin.
So maybe I was really Mary Magdalene instead?
You know…before Jesus reformed her from a life of prostitution?
But with my head tipped back and my eyes squeezed shut – and my moral compass pointing due Hell – I couldn’t stop myself from reacting to the feel of his mouth latching onto my breast.
Both answers were wrong and right.
My mind was a mess – with some parts of my body even messier – while I tried to sort through the filth to figure out what the right thing to do here was.
I didn’t know him.
Not even his name.
But considering the world had come to an end – and I’d been taught that God had a plan for us all, so I’d ended up on this island for a reason – could that reason really be so I could trade in my virginity for hot monkey sex?
I was still weighing the pros and cons when his mouth slid its way over to my other breast, licking the drops of water from my skin with his tongue, while I marveled over his natural instincts.
No wonder he’d managed to stay alive for so long from such a young age.
And in the heat of the moment – in the cool of the pond – the only thing really weighing on my mind was the size of his anaconda.
So maybe that was the true Devil in our Garden of Eden.
Because the devil was in the details and I had no doubt that snake going into my grass was going to hurt.
But I didn’t want to stop either and knowing there were other things we could do that would feel good – I had my stack of trashy romance novels to thank for that little bit of knowledge – I became a more active participant.
Using my legs as leverage, I used the weightlessness of the water to slide his snake up and down through the center of my grass. The low growl that rumbled through his chest only added to the sensations coursing through me.
The cool water was the only thing keeping my temperature from skyrocketing and once he seemed to realize what I was doing – and how it was making us feel – he moved his hands from my waist to hold onto my ass, thrusting his hips against mine.
Nothing had ever felt so good in my life.
I didn’t want him to stop.
And as the sensation wound tighter in my body, I knew I would explode in the best of ways any second, when his whole body shook, with a strangled sound coming out his throat.
And then he stopped.
Against me, that is.
The rest of him had let go of me and was moving to float across the pond, with a stupid smile on his face because his Mount BP had already exploded.
Letting my own strangled growl out – for an entirely different reason – I did what equated to stomping my way out of the water – no easy feat – with my mind back to weighing pros and cons of a different sort.
Pro – he had the body of an Adonis.
Con – he had no idea what to do with it when it came to mine.
So God either had a wicked sense of humor or me teaching him how to talk wasn’t my only purpose in being stranded on this island with him.
Glancing back to where he was – stupid smile and all – I felt my own stupid smile forming, thinking I could live with that.