Not given to long bouts of contemplation, Ron was a guy who made up his mind quickly, then quickly acted out the things in his mind. A tall guy with light-brown hair, a strong face, a square chin, and wide shoulders, he had been a wrestler back in college and was genetically lucky enough to continue being fit even though he did nothing to stay that way. Ron dragged a big piece of wood up the beach and dropped it on the pile he had started a half hour ago. They had yet to find a place where the offshore reefs did not produce really large breakers, and so their efforts to paddle out had thus far ended in complete and total failure. There were two things they did know: they seemed to be the only people on the island, and it was really difficult to launch a raft from it. So they didn’t know much about where they were. They had been on another island near Barbados, and the circumstances surrounding their departure had not allowed a lot of time for planning. They weren’t really sure where the island was, except that it was somewhere east of Barbados. Ron and Willy were stranded on a tropical island. He and Willy were scouring the beach, trying to salvage whatever they could from the wreckage. We’ll just have to try again,' Ron said as he bent to pick up another piece of the raft.

Well, that went better than last time, Ron said.

Willy tossed it into the surf and fell over backwards. See-he waved it in Ron’s face- fish in my pocket. He regarded it thoughtfully, then held it out for Ron’s consideration. Eventually he reached into the right front pocket of his ragged jeans and pulled out a small, wriggling fish. If you could look past the near drowning, it was really quite impressive. He surveyed the scene, taking a moment to appreciate how thoroughly the ocean had destroyed their raft. Willy rolled over on his side, coughed up some salt water, and cursed a few times while he wrestled his body into a sitting position. Sounds like a personal problem there, buddy. Well, I guess that’s good news, Willy answered, making no effort to sit up himself.

I’ve still got nine toes, he managed while struggling to sit up. Pieces tumbled in the surf and washed ashore.Īfter a few minutes of silence, Ron began to stir. Their little wooden raft had been crushed. They crawled up the beach, collapsed in the sand, and lay there for a while with waves breaking gently around them. Ron and Willy managed not to drown, but just barely.

Monkey Business by Landon Crutcher