I’ve become *quite* the survivalist in my time spent in this cave. Mum and Dad would be proud…or, they WILL be proud, once they see I’m alive and they know for sure that I haven’t been eaten by a large fish. It’s almost happened a few times, but all the ocean life pretty much knows that this sunken cave is my turf now. I get the occasional invasion of a boisterous octopus who thinks he can take me on, but I just tell him that I’m Melbourne’s best quality anchor winch repair person and that means that I can tie him up in knots if he so much as LOOKS at my treasure. And then I punch him in the nose.
I wish that was true, about the anchor winch thing. Then I would’ve been able to actually fix my anchor winch the day I left the dock to go and find treasure of my own. I’d gotten a lead and I didn’t want to share it with the group, because they’re losers. So I went out into the bay, but the waves began to pick up, a storm brewed, and I realised that my anchor winch was unresponsive. I was tossed about, right out of the boat, but I guess that lead must have been genuine because I came to in this cave. I can SEE the sun, so I can breathe, but it’s too high to climb out and the only other way out is a deep pool, through which the creatures of the sea keep trying to steal MY treasure. Oh, there’s piles and piles of it, gold doubloons and chests full of gems. Just wish there was a way to get out, without having to share any of it.
For now I just have to maintain my position as High Commander of Anchor Winches in Melbourne. Outboard Motor Servicing Genius Extraordinaire is another title I like to go by on occasion. Dwelling on the anchor winch repair thing puts me in a dour state of mind, but at least I have Old Brumby over there in the corner to talk to while I scratch slime off the wall to provide me with my daily sustenance.
Oh, he’s the pirate skeleton that came to life and started engaging me in political debates around…oh, six months after I got here? I do love our chats. They keep me sane.