I will roll this note up and put it in a bottle with a cork, launch it into the ocean that surrounds this bleak, InterWebless island, and hope the constant waves bring it to someone who cares. Despite Sugar Daddy's best efforts we remain stranded. He has hacked through the jungle wildness, used stones to spell out Help and SOS on the beach, sent up smoke signals, attempted repairs and even a rebuild to try to get us out of here. No joy.
I am thirsty. So thirsty. It's been days since I drank the sweet nectar I so need. My mouth is as dry as the miles of sand stretching out in both directions, parched in the baking sun. The relentless ocean taunts me with its wetness. I've heard you can go mad from drinking the sea but I'm tempted nonetheless. I'm twitchy, prickly and irritable as all get out with the thirst.
If you read this, please please send help.
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