Call me Idorgaf. I am chieftain, high king, and emperor of the Whitetusk Tribe on Dodo Island. I’m pretty sure I’m also the ONLY person on Dodo Island. Everything else is, well. . . listen up. I have a story for you.
I woke up on a beach, what seems like a long time ago now. It was a nice beach. Palm trees. Rocks. Gentle waves lapping at it. I wondered if it was the Pacific, on one of those fabled days that gave it its name. My wrist itched, so I go to scratch and someone’s implanted a holographic device in it.
I’m going to change tenses now, so you can share the memory with me as if you were there.
A dodo squeaks and wanders by, and I realize that I woke up in my boxer briefs. Thank god I wore those last night. I normally go commando.
Wait. Dodo?
I do a double take. It’s definitely a dodo. Which I am are pretty sure are extinct, since I used to get all those Wildlife Safari cards in the green box as a kid and there were some for creatures that got their asses kicked by evolution. Looks like the picture. Hopefully its as dumb as history tells us, cause dodo is still wandering around and I’m getting hungry. My stomach rumbles like a college student’s tuba at a solo recital. I sneak up on the thing. This is unnecessary, as it turns and looks at me like I’m its best friend. I momentarily pity the thing with its dumb friendly bird eyes. My stomach tuba reminds me that pity is for the fed. So I grab it and. . .
Grabbing it doesn’t work. Apparently on magic Dodo Island you can’t wring a dodo’s neck. So I fist bump it in the head. My knuckles bleed like a motherfucker and the dodo goes down! Success! Dinner is. . . unconscious. Fuck. Umm. . .
I notice there are berries on a nearby tree. Sweet! And they’re fucking everywhere. Red. Blue. Yellow. Black. White. Purple. I avoid the red ones, because everyone knows red berries are usually the poisonous ones. The blue ones are pretty tasty, so I peel off some leaves, wrap them up and save them for later.
Oh! Dodo!
The poor little guy. . . girl? looks hungry. I stuff a couple berries down its gullet. It munches them happily. I wander around the beach until my rectum starts to inform me that those berries digest fast. I don’t see any people or signs of modern life, so I pop a squat over tree branch. The triceratops can watch if it wants.
THE WHAT THE FUCKING. . .
You know I fell backward. You know I did.
Oh, those early days. You remember them. If you don’t, get your ass on the island. I’ll catch you up on ARK life more tomorrow.
The dodo? I tamed it. Wilson followed me around for about 10 whole minutes before a compy ate him. I cried a lot less than Tom Hanks.
See you tomorrow, ARKmates.
Signing off,
Idorgaf
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