one

         Waking up into the cold, crisp morning, I struggle to get up with the vestige of energy I have in my body.  That which I have is barely enough for me to open my eyes, but curiously, it is enough to rekindle my outrage at my cousin Étienne.  Étienne, that dunce, Étienne, that fool, Étienne, that empty-headed ape, Étienne, the reason I am so exhausted!

“We’ll need food, Étienne,” I said. “and plenty of it.  Find some crackers, some bread, whatever you can find.  Hurry!”

         Thus began a day of misery.  Étienne had grabbed no food, but instead hurried to salvage all the dice, playing cards, books, and toilet paper he could aboard our sinking cruise ship.  He had not even brought a rod with which to catch fish while on the ocean, and I knew nothing of any of this until we were far, far out on our lifeboat and the ship had been sunk for hours!

         In spite of this blundering error, however, Étienne did not seem at all phased or apologetic.  When I would try to fish for some sort of explanation for his stupidity, he would respond but with a shrug and a chilling smile and continue reading his book, playing Klondike, or whittling at the side of the boat with some mysterious machete which he had brought.

         How odd and revolting that he acted so indifferent!  It was as if he did not care about either of our well-beings aboard this lifeboat, about life in general, or even about any of the strange disappearances which had cursed our cruise ship voyage.  He always seemed to be consumed in some sort of pleasure; often he would intently whittle at the side of the boat, occasionally giving me a long stare that he would quickly retract when I glanced at him.  I had to wonder about him sometimes.

         When I had finally pushed myself to awake, I looked at Étienne for a while.  Once again, he was whittling at the side of the boat, whistling some tune of which I had a faint recollection.  I could not bear this any longer.

“Étienne, you bloody fool!  All à cause de toi, we are going to die out here on this sea!”

Étienne glanced up, but without a smile this time.

“I’m sorry, Jean … what do you mean?”

“I mean – you’ve forgot to bring along any food, you ignoramus!  You’ve remembered all your favourite books, you’ve not forgot your dice, but you’ve forgot to get so much as a loaf of bread!  Some genius, you are indeed! I told you I don’t know how many times to bring some along … and yet, even now, you are hardly upset or concerned!  It’s as if you think we can actually survive out here with nothing to eat!”

Étienne at first seemed confused, but then seemed to understand.  Reflecting this change, his lips began to straighten, but, strangely, soon pursed upwards in a grin that became more and more foreboding with every instant.  He stopped whittling, but kept his machete in hand, inching ever closer to me with a look ever more menacing and hungry.

“Oh, but Jean … you are mistaken!  Why, I simply found the food a bit overrated … and bland.  I have something far, far more delicious in mind!”