AcmeShorts

It was me and the five hundred women I had at one time wanted to be stuck on a desert island with, all stuck on a desert island. The awkwardness hung in the air like styrofoam. Their spokeswoman cornered me. She had on a tight-fitting Hawaiian print blouse.

Jaqueline: Wait, why are you the only man here?
Me: My guess is as good as yours.
Jaqueline: You look kind of familiar - did I see you on the subway yesterday?
Me: Iowno. Maybe.
Jaqueline: Well do you have a theory as to why we're all here?

I couldn't focus. She smelled of SPF 45. Of course I knew the answers, but I also knew that if I let them out, they would turn into uncageable Tasmanian feminist beasts. I had to say something; the natives were getting restless, as it were.

Me: Listen. I really don’t know what supernatural force put me here with all of you, but this isn’t pleasant for me either, you know. I've got a wife and kids at home (it was a lie). I have a life too, you know. They continued to look at me suspiciously. It was the "magic hour", and they looked eerily beautiful in the pinky light.

That night, they had a secret meeting beyond the campfire. They came at me with sharpened sticks.

Me (panicky and chicken shit): I can’t be held liable! I can’t be held liable! and they chased me around the scrawny patch of land for hours. I eventually ran straight through some brambles, and lost them, though I have very little skin left now.

Here's how I figure it. If their momentary insanity doesn’t kill me tonight, there's a good chance that they'll soon come to realize I am their only heterosexual outlet (or plug, as the case may be) and, in following with my original secret wishes, things on this lil’ ole' isle just might look up!