9 - My girlfriend likes to play with herself

My Girlfriend Likes To Play With Herself

She didn’t give up on the arm. She kept gnawing away like it was a hunk of prime rib. Saliva squirted into my mouth when I thought of the last time I had eaten a good steak. I tried to think of the star fish and oysters as if they were a decent meal but after a week on this cursed island it’s all I can do to choke them down no matter how hungry I get.

I tied her up again but she ignored me and went back to gnawing. She was no longer tearing big chunks out. She was just muzzling the bones and meat like a… well like a dog.

I spent the day working on my hut to be. I laid a foundation of palm leaves and branches, built them up so they were a few inches off the sand. I have been assaulted nightly by all kinds of bugs and things that bite in the night. With any luck the little bastards won't be able to get me when I'm off the ground.

My idea of building a house like a tri-fold enclosure is paying off. I wove leaves all day to create the walls and ceiling. When I was done, I had something I could lay under. I stretched out and watched her stare at her prize. She didn’t move for a long time and I wondered if she was thinking about anything.

Zombies don’t think, though, they don’t feel and they don’t talk. I know the stories, the movies, but seeing one this close is something different all together. First of all she is cold to the touch so if you think I am enjoying her running around in what is left of her clothes you are wrong. Her skin is gray and mottled. It looks like some really bad spackle on the side of a house. She only has one good eye, the other is dead and looks like a white almond.

The worst part is that she had been chewing on dead meat all night and day. I don’t even want to think about where it goes or how it gets back out. It's not like she can take a crap. For all I know the stuff she has been chowing down on is just sitting in her stomach, rotting. That's probably what makes her breath so foul that I have to sit upwind.

And now she has a strip of skin stuck in her teeth and no idea how to get it out. She has been chewing at the thing all morning. It just bounces off her chin as she snaps at it over and over again. I bet she has tried to get that thing a hundred times already. Her one good eye stares down at it but she can’t seem to get her hands to do anything like pull the skin off her broken teeth.

I was busy making the hut when she fell on her face from trying to get the meat. She had reared back, slowly and then let her mouth snap shut against air. She moved quicker than I have seen her move before and because of this she ended up on the ground.

I took the opportunity to stop working on the hut and find some smaller leaves. I got on her back again, trying to ignore the smell, the cold skin, the clothes that were covered in dried blood. I tilted her head to the side as she snarled at me and used the leaves to pull the skin out from between her teeth. It was a long piece that was white and putrid. Spoiled and nasty.

I know when the rescue boat arrives and they read my diary they will have trouble coming to grips with some of the things I had to do to the girl but I promise I did everything as humanely as possible.

I tore part of her skirt off and wrapped it around her mouth. I’m still afraid of her bite.

I left her on the ground and went back to work on the hut. She rolled around and managed to get her hands trapped under her body and then bounced up and down like she was humping them.

It looked like she was playing with herself. The snarls and grunts didn’t help.

It rained later so I took off my clothes and rubbed down with some sand as best I could. She looked at me blankly and continued thrusting her body up and down. So I decided to treat it like a vote of approval and did a little dance for her.

I dug out some oysters later and even tried to spear a fish. This ended in failure about fifty times, but on the last I missed a large fish but managed to spear a small red one that thrashed around after I brought it out of the water.

I nearly ran back to camp to show her what I had caught. I hooted and hollered but she just rocked back and forth on her hands. After watching her for a few minutes I slipped my hands under her waist and pulled her up to her feet. She steadied herself and turned her head ever so slowly to look at me with that one blue eye. I scraped a couple of maggots of her other eye and I must say it was a downright romantic moment.

Until she snarled at me and bit against the gag like she was going to rip my nose off. I backed away and sat on a rock and watched her walk to the end of the rope and then strain against it no more than three feet from me. Her eye crinkled up in rage, well the good one did, and she reached for me with those hands that were now covered in sand, dried blood and chunks of her husband’s skin.

This is ridiculous. I should just kill her.

“Should I kill you, babe?”

Snarl.

“Should I take you out and leave you in the water, point you away from the island and then swim away?”

Snarl.

“Maybe hang you from a tree and set you on fire? Do you think a boat or plane will see that?”

Snarl.

These one-sided conversations were getting on my nerves. But she is my Wilson so it is my obligation to chat with her. Tell her my problems. Tell her how I feel about stuff. Show her a good time on the island, walk her from one end to the other. All the stuff a couple should do.

I cooked the fish and tossed her the raw fins. She stared at them from her tree where she had managed to wrap herself up again. She howled against the gag and reached for me with one arm. I got a stick and pushed one of the fins toward her. She watched me, not the stick, not the fin. She kept her eye on me and a gross pink bubbling fluid leaked out of her mouth. I stopped in mid chew and fought to keep my stomach calm. I wanted to turn and throw up. I knew that if I did that I would have to re-eat the stuff because I am so low on food. Managed to keep it down after a few breaths. Phew.

What the hell is that crap coming out of her mouth? If I didn’t know any better I would say its foaming Alka Selzer in red Kool-aid. I wonder if her guts are backed up from all the stuff she ate. I can't take much more of this.

Tomorrow I plan to explore the island. With any luck I will find a better place to live. 

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