PUPPY MUNCH

ISLAND



A Short Fiction

By

David A. Archer
02/15/1968



09/12/2006

The brochure said it was going to be a floating paradise! Nothing will I ever have experienced like it! I would be begging for more at final port of call!

But really, as I woke with sand in my mouth and a tight feeling in my chest from nearly choking on sea water, I winced when I realized that I wasn’t simply dreaming some bad television reality episode or fantasizing about some classic tale of pirates and having been marooned.

It was hot. I was thirsty. My eyes were stinging. I had abrasions and muscle cramps where I never even knew I had muscles. And other than the scattered refuse that managed to float ashore along with some other people now stirring about, there wasn’t anything even vaguely romantic or exciting about this “episode.” I would come to find that there were even a few people very much dead and simply washed up, which we would soon find ourselves dealing with as best as we could.

Fortunately, there were no major injuries. That is to say, there were no major injuries which survived the several hours and whatever predators were between ourselves and the shore of this sparsely inhabitable island. It was a grand thing to have found a small stream nearby. A blessing no less, regardless of one’s chosen faith.

The terrain was near barren. Vegetation did exist to some extent, but nowhere near what a person is used to in all of the “shipwreck” stories. There was as much volcanic rock and shale area, at least, as there was any sort of greenery.

It would be fair to say that the refuse which washed ashore with us, was as good in the manner of scenery as anything naturally about the island. Much more than even I could guess, at the moment.

As things go in such a situation, we all soon gathered who could do so and recounted the versions of what we had just experienced and survived. This, of course after we all had our fill of the inexplicably magnificent stream.

I didn’t even know that we had been under a hostile siege of sorts. A modern pirate attack no less, by some of the other accounts. What I did know thankfully, just from the basic knowledge of modern communications, is that there was no way we could possibly be stuck here long.

It wasn’t a very large cruise ship at all, which many figure made it all the more a target to those which had attacked it. And judging from the fact that there was nothing a person could see of the ship except for the very top aspects of it, had sunk it as well.

Everyone could remember having been near the island we were now on, earlier in the evening we were boarded. It was one of the “attractions” for the evening meal as the sun was going down and the strolling musicians strummed and bowed familiar and trite melodies.

“They” must have taken some people with them as well. There were no where near the number of people present which had been aboard, and nowhere near a comparable amount of bodies to account for the difference.

They definitely knew what they were doing.

As soon as we were all somewhat rested and refreshed, the task of finding some sort of shelter began. Firstly, locating an area conducive to the sort of temporary digs that would most likely be our refuge for some hours at least to come, was obvious priority. Then of course began the task of gathering and sorting through what we could find of washed up items and crates which had followed the same current as the rest of us had. This as much for materials with which to fashion the shelter, as any other hopes a person might imagine of those being suddenly without anything and exposed to tropical elements.

I am kind of glad that we managed to complete most of our shelter from various things recovered and some procured from the landscape, before it is that we managed a most interesting discovery.

It was touted as an incredible sign of good fortune at first, but soon was regarded with what could only be described as disgust laced with pure confusion, and tempered with a healthy portion of overwhelming sense of betrayal.

They looked “normal” enough I suppose. I can recall immediately comparing them to cases of food rations and individually packaged food stuffs I had seen in other situations. The larger cases themselves were labeled in a manner that would suggest just that.

“Galley” was the word printed large and quite obviously, on the boxes themselves.

At first it was even somewhat of a disappointment that there were so few of the larger case packages. But that was a short lived and soon forgotten perspective.

Those of us which had still been working on the shelter dropped what we were doing to join the group, now surrounding the individuals having found and retrieved the apparent sustenance.

The excitement mounted as they began to pry into the first, heavy box. The crack of wood and then the faint squeak reminiscent of what a person might compare to coffin nails moving, was at first the begins of celebration. As if tuning some sort of instrument for a pleasurable performance in merriment.

Then out came the first of the smaller packaging... again being boxes labeled “Galley” in smaller letters with various code sequences scrawled across them as well. I happened to notice the ever present instruction of “not for resale” which commonly accompanies bulk materials of the sort.

It was almost like Christmas. The exhilaration continued to rise in those long moments, as a few even began to whine questions along the lines of “what did we get?” and “what’s in it, what’s in it?”

Then out it came. The first of the individually packaged canned goods appeared much, no less to the immediate dumbfounded silence of all.

“Puppy Munch?” said the guy holding up a can of food stuffs. “What the hell is Puppy Munch?” he then said almost under his breath.

“I don’t recall any dogs on the cruise” a lady responded near him, though loud enough for everyone to hear.

Then some laughter began to break as a few of the more “present” individuals did the math work in their heads…. Looking at one another and fueling the giggles into near uproarious laughter.

“I specifically remember the brochure saying that dogs were not allowed” the young lady again stated, still not quite putting it all together. “Why would they say that… when they had all this Puppy Munch the whole time? My little Muffy loves Puppy Munch… I give it to him as a treat every so often.” she continued in a tone that served only to further stoke the flames of hilarity in those obviously a bit more privy to human nature than herself.

Others simple began to pale and grimace a bit, while the most of us began, through our controlled disgust to realize some truth to the adage of old, referring to “ignorance in bliss” while she still carried on about “Muffy” and “why they were so mean and told her not to bring him.”

She now stood with a can of Puppy Munch in her hand, obviously befuddled for reasons other than the questions still looming to some degree in the others.

She still didn’t get it. The fact that we had paid for a pleasure cruise which served Puppy Munch to the guests still, somehow eluded her.

“At least we don’t have to eat each other” I heard from somewhere in the small group of people, “for however long we are stuck here.”

“Can you freaking believe those bastards!” I heard from another now turning to walk away as if lifting himself by his own hair in motion. “F*cking DOG FOOD!” he again exclaimed. “I am sooo going to sue the Sh*t out of them!” continued his rant.

“Yeah” quietly concurred another, more to himself than anyone else, “at least they could have had the decency to repackage it or something….. you know” he then said and paused in consideration, “it really wasn’t all that bad…. At least until we found out just now, that is.”

This of course immediately spurred a horrific gasp from the sunshine girlie with a “Muffy” in realization, and an assortment of other reactions ranging from laughter to one older gentleman beginning to dry heave. Most just standing near motionless in quiet, and mild forms of revulsion.
It was obvious that many had at least suspected such activity at some point in their life – half smiling and lost in mystery abound mixed with notes of some strange closure in finally, physically witnessing it. Except obviously, to no small value of comic relief in the previous moment…those with concerns for “Muffy” who now looked entirely astounded at what was more than evident of the immediate disclosure.

“Really no big surprise” I chimed in… “you ever stop and look at how they market that stuff?” I continued…”most of it looks better in the pictures, than the stuff supposedly meant for people….” I then laughed in a manner which I knew meant I had passed some mile stone in my own path of maturity. “yeah” I continued, “at least we won’t have to eat each other… it’s still processed in a similar way as the other stuff. You know” I then said as I grabbed a can and began to examine it, “It might be the offal and trimmings and the like…but when you think about it, that type of stuff is considered a delicacy in some countries.”

“Stop talking about it” I heard as I had to continue to laugh. “Protein is protein, right?” I persisted through my laughter in disbelief, just to be a little devilish and ease my own concern a bit more.

“We are just mammals after all” I then continued to myself under my breath.

"How bad could it be?" I then heard in some strange form of support at my previous direction as I continued to sort through the large box. "Muffy eats it, right?" the voice then continued… "Muffy isn't dead.. or sick…In fact, I had a dog once that ate nothing but canned food… and it never got sick once.”

“Let’s see here” I then said to myself as I pulled different colored labels from the box and began to read out loud. “Beef Yummy Din Din” I said stridently. “It looked better in the picture on the menu than the picture on the can” I said again to be somewhat needling, of myself as well as the others.

“I think I had that the other night” said another from just over my shoulder… “Does it have the vegetable mix? Carrots and potatoes and the like” he continued.

“It looks like it has the carrots in it already, but they must have added the ‘taters” I sounded as I absent mindedly tossed the can to him, then grabbed another.

“Clucky Chicken Yum Yum” I read again out loud, “complete source of vitamins and minerals for your dog’s health and shiny coat!” I continued. “How could it possibly be bad?” I again said in a theatrical tone laced with the now familiar, growing hilarity.

“I think I saw a commercial for that one, once” said a voice now nearer myself and the box of Puppy Munch… “it had that guy in it… you know that guy from that movie… uh...” he stammered trying to remember as he began to hum a jingle laced with words… “Clucky Chicken Yum Yum…da da da… You Can Even Serve It Warm…da di dum…”

“I must have missed that one” I replied.. “wait” I then began a thought. “Is it the one with that guy and that chick from the T.V. show with the hot dog cart guy..?”

“Yeah, Yeah” he replied with the excitement one might expect from a game of fetch… “but he isn’t in the T.V. show… he has his own movie… what the hell is his name” he managed to himself as he again began to hum and chatter a theme like tune. “Mitch… no…da di da dum…Clucky Chicken Yum, Yum” snapping his fingers as if it were to help him recall.

“Brad!” He then exclaimed. “Brad Clowny and that broad what used to have a talk show that would do stuff with hot dog guys…Blossom Barroom… yeah, I always thought she had a thing for ‘em” he then continued with heightened excitement. “She always reminded me of a hooker for some reason… I think that’s why I watched it” he stated as he began to chuckle to himself. “If Blossom sells it” he said with no uncertain tone of tongue in cheek, “then it has to be tasty! Let me see dat...” he said as he grabbed the can of Clucky Chicken Yum Yum, “Yeah, I had this one, too” he said while looking at the picture on the label. “You’re right… the picture on the menu looked better.. and they must add some vegetables to it for the dinner portion” he paused. “And really, how bad can it be, right” he again said as if to convince himself, “I hear they use a ton of radiation on this stuff, too… so at least you know it is all the way dead…. You know what I mean” he spewed in a laugh as he ribbed me quite literally with his elbow, Clucky Chicken Yum, Yum in hand.

“Yeah” I replied as I felt the need to definitely smile some more at the situation, “must be some ‘broad’ to manage a product on a cruise ship, huh?” I then chided back. “If it’s all the same… and no offense to Blossom or anything” I then said in a slightly more serious tone, “I think I will hold off on it for awhile… just to see if anyone shows up any time soon.”

“None taken” he replied, “come to think of it, I still ain’t all that hungry either…but I’ll definitely have a few on hand in case things get crazy around here… I heard about people and confined spaces.”

“Fair enough” I stated as I motioned him toward the open case of Puppy Munch, moving myself out of the way just slightly. “Try not to be too conspicuous though… I would hate for everyone else to get jealous or something.”

Just as the gentleman was leaving the area and making his way toward the shelter we had all fashioned, I noticed a shimmer in the distance, near the horizon.

“That just has to be a plane” I thought to myself first, then making it known a second later in stating that I, in fact thought I had seen a plane.

“Are you sure… where?” asked several people, though not simultaneously.

“Right there” I pointed to the glimmer on the horizon… “it has to be a plane of some sort.”

Then the ever popular yet meaningless word known in all languages erupted in a disheveled orchestra type of way; “Wooooo!” Then again in continued jubilation; “Woooo hoooo!”

“Do we start a fire or something like on T.V.?” I heard someone suggest.

“No time for starting a fire” was the response, “let’s just wave a bunch of stuff and jump up and down.”

“Hey, Muffy lady” I then heard from the gentleman knowing of Blossom, in a tone that no man could misunderstand; “Take your shirt off, it might help!”

“You pig!” said one of the ‘not so young’ women present now standing with a deeper look of disgust than I had remembered her demonstrating at the discovery of our over priced meal source.

“C’mon lady” he retorted, “don’t be jealous, you can do it too” he continued in an obvious effort to either level a challenge or pitch her off the end of her now looming snit. “It really might help” he continued in a veiled plea that again, no man could misunderstand.

“You filthy pig!” she again said. “I am going to sue the cruise line for even putting on the same boat with the likes of you!” she nearly screamed as she stomped off toward the shelter area again.

“Some people just don’t know how to have a good time” he said loud enough for everyone to hear it. “That broad is going to get back to civilization and kick herself for passing on the opportunity to have a little fun…” he continued as if to further justify his position.

“Yeah, that’s a plane” I heard from somewhere near the water line which again brought the international cry in celebration of “Wooooo! Hooo!”

“Somebody get something to wave around… quick” I heard from another while everyone was beginning to make as much of a visual ruckus as possible.

Then it began a descent which set off one of the most relieved feelings I am sure that many of us had ever experienced.

It was obviously a sea plane, and it was becoming more obvious that it was purposefully heading for the island we had washed up on.

“They obviously got off a distress signal” I then heard from the small crowd.

“Yeah… “ heard in reply from the same direction, “no more Puppy Munch… we are goin’ back to civilization…” was the next exclamation.

“Not so fast” the Blossom fan blurted in a way that bespoke his personal leanings toward a defeatist attitude. “Those guys could be working with the guys that sank us… and are just looking to finish the job…”

“Shut up, pig!” I then heard over my shoulder that might have been some sort of tone in instant familiarity now tending to consider, however secretly and briefly, the companionship of said pig.

“You shut up, you snit!” he bounded back in no dissimilar, and strangely affectionate manner.

“That is weird” I thought to myself. “You can almost feel the tension between them… “like opposites really do attract” I found myself thinking as the plane now taxied up to the beach.

Just then, as we witnessed what should have been a reprieve…. we all froze with uncertainty.

This was no rescue crew I had ever seen.

These guys were in dark shades and dress suits. Two of them, accompanied with several definite soldier types clad in full, black body armor and packing automatic firearms.

We didn’t know what to do with ourselves except stand there, dumbfounded.

Then one of the suits spoke in a rather monotone sentence; “Are you the victims of the cruise ship mishap?”

To which a few nodded in concurrence and others kind of mumbled a similar gesture.

“We are from the cruise company and have orders to asses the situation” he then said in a robot like voice which chilled the senses. “Have you recovered anything from the wreckage?” he continued.

“Yes, we most certainly did” said the nasally voice of the “Muffy” dog girl, “we found some food, too…. And how come I couldn’t bring my dog?” she finished in a way that left a quiet even over the rushing waves upon the shore.

“Am I to discern that you have recovered some of the Puppy Munch brand, canned dog food from the cruise ship?” said the suited man in the same near terrifying tone.

“Well, yeah” she responded with a few others supporting her claims.

“In no uncertain terms” he began in a way that definitely concerned me, “you are all no longer to leave this island!” he stated.

“What do ya’ mean!” exclaimed the Blossom guy, “we didn’t even eat any of it yet… is it poisoned or something?”

“No.” said the talking suit. “The company I work for has no interest in addressing the certain legal aspects which are bound arise from your rather unfortunate discovery. As you can see” he then went on in machine like fashion, “it is well within our power to simply remove you entirely…but” he hesitated, “as with all of the quality aspects of our firm, we are prepared to leave you with your lives and periodic supply drops… including Puppy Munch brand, dog food. This in the interest of humanitarianism as well as a show of good faith in complying with the interest of our firms mission statement. And we are prepared to do so at no extra charge to you, or your heirs. More simply put, you are all screwed.”

At that point I didn’t think I could become anymore shocked or surprised, given both the information and the ‘info-mercial’ like, though deathly tone in which it was delivered, when from behind me and in the recognized voice of the older lady having just been in a slight verbal altercation I in no way mistakenly heard;

“Get over here you filthy beast!… it doesn’t look like we are going anywhere!”