Journal of a Shipwrecked man, Part One

Man, Bear or Bogeyman? Or Dracula?

 A few years ago the company I work at basically exiled me to a forgotten corner
of the building because, you know, it seemed efficient at the time. I kept a journal
to pass the lonely mornings and afternoons until they realized they were idiots and
finally repatriated me. Here is an excerpt:

12:14pm
I am feeling lightheaded. Could it be hunger? No- I have just
finished my 3rd slice of leftover pizza. Then suddenly I remember,
my wife gave me a haircut last night. The loss of 2lbs of hair makes
me feel as if I am floating, floating out of my chair. There is no
one to save me! I am totally alone here. I picture myself rising
like a large, multi-coloured balloon, ever higher. In a flash I am
in the balloon's gondola, pulling the chain, making it go higher and
higher! I am laughing like a madman. Tears of joy flow down my
cheeks- in my loneliness I am happy! The people below me look like
mere ants. It is then that I notice I am using the telescope
backwards- they are ACTUAL ANTS, and they are crawling over the
picnic basket I packed for the occasion. I open it, dicovering it
contains hundreds of sugar cubes and nothing else. If only I had
40 gallons of coffee!

This scene fades. Reality, gravity, pepperoni & cheese all conspire
to bring me crashing down in my chair. Was it a dream? No. My hair
IS actually shorter. Perhaps that will attract visitors. If it does,
they will be the wrong kind of visitors.

Mandrake, in exile