Epilogue

On an island in the sun, after a week of playing and having fun, two men sat roasting fish over fire, while blood leaked from the holes atop their heads.

“When do you think we should head back?” asked the Historian, trying to break a coconut with a rock.

“Maybe tomorrow, maybe a hundred years. I don’t know how long it’ll take to swim back.”

The Historian passed the cracked coconut to Hitode.

“Do you think she’s waiting for us?” asked Hitode.

“You? Probably. Me? Definitely wants me to drown.” said the Historian.

The two men laughed.

They were somewhere off in the Pacific, on an uninhabited island within a coral atoll. There were wild pigs running about the jungle. Small crabs nipping at their feet.

“Sing that song again.” said Hitode. “The American one.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down. Do you know how big the catalogue of American music is?”

“Uhh, fat guy with big hair. Shiney suit.”

“Thank you.”

In a terrible off-key voice, he began to croon Elvis Presley.

“I don’t think that’s how that song goes.”

Hitode tried to join in their voices intermingling over the open ocean air in a strange cacophony that would kill any sailor.

Just a few metres away a mermaid watched the two of them, contemplating on who she would have to spend the rest of eternity with.

As far as choices go, these were pretty bad.