
Mission Log, Day 12:
I fear now that all hope for my survival is lost. I ate both of this vessel’s paddles in the hopes of nomming their potential termite inhabitants, but found nothing but splinters in my mouth. My arms are tired, the water smells like hippopotamus, and I would give absolutely anything to see my little Teresa once more. If this craft should sink before I am reunited with the rest of my orangutan brethren, I can only hope that my darling daughter is given the large, juicy papaya I buried under the trunk of our home tree as a souvenom to remember me by. … ugh, curses! All this talk of papayas has made me even hungrier…
Via Nothing to Do With Arbroath
Incorrect source or offensive?