Either or, Neither nor

I awoke on an island one day. How I had arrived there never really passed my mind during my occupation, for the absurdity of the island absorbed my thoughts in its totality.

It was a small island, resembling the islands we so often see in comics during our childhood, the archetypal tropical paradise. In the middle of the island, there stood a bizarre tree that I shall now attempt to describe. It was a large tree, for its boughs extended beyond the boundaries of the island, casting sufficient shade upon my body.

However, what caught my attention were the three women who sat upon the branches of the tree, each monopolizing their very own section, slowly decorating it with whatever pleased them. One of these women was dressed in an office suit and was decorating the boughs with green flaps of paper that upon closer inspection was money. One of the other women was clad in a t-shirt and jeans which was smeared with paint that spanned the colors of the rainbow. She painted a medley of leaves onto the branches, thoughtfully mixing colors on her wooden palette. The third woman who was scantily clad twirled what seemed to be Christmas lights about the branches.

All three seemed engrossed in their tasks and I, felt rather daunted for I was about to interrupt their activity. Yet, still I expressed my want to be noticed by clearing my throat loudly. All three pairs of eyes turned to look at me, the artist woman leaping about the branches with spectacular agility in order to receive a view of me that was not hindered by the bizarre apparatus that hang from each bough.

When I licked my lips and opened my mouth to speak, I was interrupted by Business Woman.

“Why do you lick your lips? Are you nervous? Are you intimidated by me?” she asked with a haughty “hmph” embellishing the beginning and ending of her questions. “You shouldn’t ever be tense. The world out there would devour you like a hungry tiger. No! I know. You are tense because you will never earn as much as me.”

Faced with such a barrage of questions and a questionable life lesson, I stood there, speechless.

“Stop gaping like a fish! You look like a koi fish! And men do NOT like koi-fish-like women, believe me, I've been there.” reprimanded the Sexy Woman. “Anyway, money should be earned by the men. Listen up girl, find a rich man and marry him. Let him deal with the world, and you will deal with him.”

This life lesson was possibly more questionable than the previous one.

The Arty Woman added her own suggestion. “What nonsense. Don’t listen to them. Money is abysmal compared to the expression of art! Even if one should die a pauper’s death, money is unimportant. Art. Art. And more Art should occupy your life in its entirety.”

This life lesson seemed noble at first glance, but the prospect of dying a pauper’s death deterred me a little from accepting her noble concept.

This was when my stomach produced a growl that was heard by all three women. They giggled in unison, and subsequently dug fervently at their pockets, each producing a fruit that resembled apples. The Business Woman’s fruit was green, the Arty Woman’s was multicolored and the Sexy Woman’s was a vibrant red. They chanted together: “Choose one!”

I glanced uncertainly at each fruit, considering each carefully. Was I to choose one of the three women and incur the wrath of the other two women? I decided not to choose and follow the footsteps of Paris, son of Priam whose choice brought the wrath of others upon himself.

“I will not choose.” I turned my face away, and sat upon the soft sand.

Wild cries and roars of rage, pleading and howls of hate came huddling in chaotic interpenetration, all in attempt to convince me to choose between the three strange fruit. Still, there I sat, ignoring the incessant demanding of my stomach.

The sun set and the moon rose. The moon set and the sun rose. Still, there I sat ignoring the increasing pangs of hunger and pain along with the cries of the three women. I felt my body weaken and the moisture disappear from my mouth. When my pain and thirst became unbearable, I turned to the three women who were silenced by my frail gaze. Shakespeare once said that the tongues of dying men enforce attention like deep harmony. Perhaps that is why they listened to my feeble words.

And so I spoke, my words clear if not distorted by the lack of moisture in my mouth and the shakiness of my voice. “I will not choose.”

“Foolish girl,” said the three women in unison.

“If you would but choose, you would not die of thirst,” said the Sexy Woman, extending the red fruit towards me enticingly.

“I will not choose.”

“If you would just choose, you would not die of hunger,” said the Arty Woman, her eyes disapproving while adding leaves to a naked bough.

“I will not choose.”

The Business Woman polishing her green fruit with a bank note added softly. “If you would just choose, you would live.”

I had no strength left to speak. I felt my life slip away. I grabbed at life desperately with no avail. Hence, I died amidst the disapproving grunts of the three women, leaving the little island nothing but my last breath.