After scrimping and saving for over six months, I have finally arrived at the distant Schmegegee Islands. I have been reading about this tropical paradise for many years. Photos of this wondrous land have adorned the walls of my cubicle for even longer, allowing me to gaze upon the island’s clear blue waters, its golden sunsets, its serene beaches, and of course the island women.
Not that I was trying to escape from work, you see. The company that employs me makes the inspection slips you may find inside certain items of clothing you purchase. You know, the old “Inspected by No. 29” and such (that happens to be one of my personal favorites). Some of my so-called friends think it is a trivial job, but I firmly believe that we provide a valuable service. I mean, don’t you feel better buying a six-pack of underwear knowing that someone inspected them first for your safety? I thought so.
But this is not time to think about work. This is the time to enjoy the Schmegegees, and it was a warm welcome indeed as I stepped off the boat and the island natives performed energetic and exotic dances while escorting me to my hut. As I settled in for this tropical paradise that would be my home for the next week, one beautiful island girl gently took hold of my hand. Wow, I had been here only minutes and already an angel was at my doorstep. To my surprise, she had placed in my hand a small bright green oval nut. “Chicki,” she said, smiling. “You like.” She then slowly let her tongue slide out to show me that she had a Chicki-Nut in her mouth already. As she began sensuously chewing the nut, I popped one in my own mouth as well. After all, when in Rome…
As the sun rose the following morning, I unfortunately realized that I had been up all night. Perhaps it was the excitement of finally reaching my dream destination. But upon further reflection, I remembered the burst of energy I derived from that strange Chicki-Nut my island princess had shared with me.
It was then that I remembered a newspaper article that I had read some time ago about the Chicki-Nut. It explained how the majority of the island natives chewed on this nut all day long, and resulted in bursts of hyperactivity, super-energy, and sometimes hallucinations mixed with a sense of euphoria. Not only that but it was highly addictive, and produced a strange green fluid in one’s mouth that some say could lead to cancer of the phlanx. I think there was also some mention about how the distribution of Chick-Nuts was controlled by war lords on the island.
Well, I certainly don’t believe everything I read in the newspaper, and my experience yesterday with the Chicki-Nut was quite enjoyable. I have never been addicted to anything. Heck, I don’t even consume caffeinated drinks. The funny thing was, I almost felt a driving obsession to try the Chicki-Nut again, and as soon as possible. I figured that my background in the inspection slip business told me that this matter needed further…inspection. Luckily enough, as I walked to the town square, I found a Chicki-Nut vendor in no time at all. He was an island native, and was standing beside a pick-up truck filled with the green nuts and covered by a tarp. I wasn’t sure why he was standing off to the side of the square and carrying a machine gun, but I figured that this is probably the way they keep peace in this tropical paradise.
I popped six Chicki-Nuts in my mouth and soon afterward began my walk around the island. I could now get the full effect of this wondrous place: its bright pink palm trees, the purple monkeys who spoke perfect English to me and shared their glowing bananas, the clear cool orange ocean waters that undulated in geometric patterns. My heart was beating and pounding, and even seemed to be keeping time with the Neil Sedaka tunes that were in my head. After briskly walking around the perimeter of the 10-mile island 20 times, I noticed that I had not felt the effects of the Chicki-Nut whatsoever, but that I was glad to finally be here at the Schmegegees. On my way back to the hut, I made sure to get another 12 dozen of the Chicki-Nuts, just in case I wanted a snack later.
I had another sleepless night, but that was OK, since I was so excited to be here finally and enjoy my time on the island. My evening was not wasted, however, because as I chewed several Chicki-Nuts in the we hours, I had a burst of creativity and energy, due no doubt to the island breezes and the feeling that wires were branching out from the palm trees into my head. I used this time wisely, and made my own Chicki-Nut smoothies, toothpaste, and sandwiches. In the middle of the night, I decided to climb a tree near my hut, because I thought I saw some Chicki-Nuts high atop them, glowing and calling out to me like a gospel choir. After my invigorating climb to the top, I realized that I had been mistaken, and then lost my footing as a I slide back down the tree. I scraped my legs pretty badly, but fortunately I had made a salve out of Chicki-Nuts that night and as I applied it to my scratches I felt instantly better. I even walked around the island 20 more times, accompanied by a day-glo zebra, indigenous to the island. I heard loud noises as well, which at first I thought was gunfire, but then realized they must be fireworks, as people celebrated being in this heavenly place for another day.
As I walked back to my hut the next morning with 12 dozen more Chicki-Nuts, I tried to figure out why that newspaper article was so critical of these green delights that had become the center of my life. After all, these friendly little orbs are always complimentary toward me, they never put me down (like that one idiot at work who I plan to disembowel immediately upon my return), and they made me realize how strong, energetic, and powerful I really am. The only downside was that they sometimes made me constipated, but when I developed some suppositories out the nuts, that problem was licked.
That night I realized it was time to show my gratitude to my new best, and only, friends, and so I spent the evening creating a little shrine to the Chicki-Nut. I made a little nest out of my hair for some nuts to rest in, and surrounded them with candles and incense. It looked pretty good, but something was missing. I needed to show the nuts how much I truly loved and worshipped them. If only I had some jewels of some sort. Of course! The gold caps on my molars would be perfect. My devotion was so intense to the Chicki-Nuts that I couldn’t even feel a thing when I pulled the caps off my molars with my fingers and placed them alongside my hair nest.
As I awoke from my fetal position that morning, I thought that this would be a good day to try something new, so I immediately ran to the town square and bought 12 dozen more Chicki-Nuts. I may have stepped on a cat in my rush to the square, but then it looked back at me, smiled and said, “Me like Chicki-Nut, too.” Then it exploded. I purchased my nuts, popped about 10 in my mouth, and spent the rest of the day on the beach trying to balance seashells on my penis. That night in my hut I twirled for five hours.
As I dug myself out of a 10-foot hole, I realized that this was my last day on the island. My second shock came when I realized this was also my last day to consume Chicki-Nuts, as I cannot take them back to the States. Typical: we allow all kinds of harmful crap in the U.S., but the friendly little Chicki-Nut is forbidden. It just wants to make us happy, keep us company, and allow us to see the world as it really is: full of beautiful vibrating colors and gesticulating animals. It’s not like the guy I’m gonna kill in my office or all those whores in that bar back home who are always laughing at me whenever I read pick-up lines to them out of that book that that jerk sold me at the bookstore I should kill that guy too and I think I heard him say something about my mom once or was that my boss who said that because he sucks too at that stupid-ass job I have what was I thinking I wanted to be a podiatrist but no that costs money but everybody has feet my dad would say right before he left us to become a potato rancher or something else that he probably failed at.
Why can’t I just stay on this island with my new friends the Chicki-Nuts? They have been more faithful to me than anyone else. I love you, Chicki-Nut! And I know you love me. You get me. I know, maybe I could marry a Chicki-Nut and then I could stay on the island. And I’ll write to that newspaper and tell them the truth about you, that you stand for goodness, not evil. I will defend your honor, my love! No, that’s crazy, a Chicki-Nut would never marry me. Or it would just end in a messy divorce. Oh Chicki-Nut, why must you torture me so? Why why why???
From the Cleveland Post:
Ravenna Man Dies While Vacationing in Schmegegee Islands
Schmegegee Islands—Ryan Tuttle, longtime Ravenna resident, died from cancer of the phlanx while on vacation in this remote island location.
Tuttle was found in his hut with several strange green nuts stuffed in his underwear. About two hundred slips of paper with the handwritten words “Inspected by No. 29” were found lying on the floor. He was wearing nothing but the aforementioned underwear, a faded Margaritaville t-shirt, black socks and sandals.
Co-workers at Tuttles’ place of employment, Consolidated Tags, Inc., described Tuttle as a sad, rather slow-witted man who mostly stayed to himself .
“He had all these island-ish pictures in his cubicle,” said one male co-worker who asked to not be identified, “but I tried not to get too close to him. He smelled pretty bad.”
“We pretty much just laughed at him,” added another female acquaintance of Tuttle’s who would sometimes see him at a local bar. “He had these weird flakes all over his skin. We all just figured that one day he’d walk into the bar and kill us or something.”
Tuttle’s remains will be airlifted to his father’s potato farm in Wadworth, Ohio, where they will be used for potash.