Alive Presumed Dead E-Book

George G George

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Seitenzahl: 179

Beschreibung

This funny collection of stories which are true were put together by myself, I wanted to share them with others as they are worth reading. You will laugh and maybe cry but most of all you will enjoy the book. 

This book is a humorous, funny, sad and a light hearted look in to one man’s life, mine Richard Head every memory in here is true, ish. I have changed the names and places to protect the innocent and myself hopefully, most of what your about to read is from my life. There are some incidents I’ve heard from friends, but I’m not telling which. Okay the Typhoon part isn’t true or Two Tree Island, and a few bits more but it’s a story right? 
Richard Head better known to everyone as Dickhead, I had been searching for something to boost my boring life. I wanted something to give me a new outlook, I needed a different challenge, but what? Then a job opportunity came along and I grabbed it with both hands, that was a life changing moment and probably not for the better.
I’m just your normal run of the mill bloke, but ended up fighting for my life many times. I had survived a major air crash only to be stranded on a tiny island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. I’ve had to fights sharks, depression, insanity, plus much more and I recall my most funny and sad memories but mostly funny. I was there for over 500 days, and this book tells of how and what I had to do until he’s rescued. 
My next big challenge is to return home and face the family, knowing that I’d been given up as dead a long time ago. The kids and grandchildren were easy, facing my wife Tina who was now engaged to a new man, would be another thing altogether. Read on and see how I fair, will it be success or failure?

Leseprobe

George G George

Alive Presumed Dead

Alive Presumed Dead

Chapter 1:

Alive Presumed Dead

Just another day in paradise; I’ve cast my fishing line out into the crystal clear waters of Coral Cove, which is the name I’ve given this place. I’ll wait for a fish to take the bait. In a cloudless sky, the sun’s hot rays beat down overheating anything caught in its beams. That’s why I’m sitting under a palm tree in the shade; the waters have plenty of fish so I won’t be here long. God, how I hate fish! Just once I’d like a T bone steak, bread and lots of butter and a chilled cider. Is that really too much to ask? It seems it is. Now my mouth’s drooling like Boson, a big dog we had years ago. Why am I moaning, I hear you say. Stop complaining. You don’t have to work and you have sunshine every day. Warm sun, cool water. How I’d love to live like that; you must be the luckiest man alive.

Wrong, you’re so wrong. I’m here - stranded on a small atoll, no bigger than two football pitches in the middle of the vastness known as the Pacific Ocean and I’ve been here alone for 488 days. I am long past taking to trees or crabs, although I still call out to the occasional bird that flies over. A Samsonite suit case was washed up a few days ago. The first bit of luck I’ve had for some time. Inside was a lot of woman’s clothes including lots of thongs and bras. This was a top heavy girl, the size on the bra read 36 GG and the thongs are small. Well, I won’t be running short of eye patches or sling shots for a while now.

The best result though was a laptop and a solar re-charger, “Yeah!” Now at last I feel like I’m still in the 21st century. Believe it or not, the mystery woman had left the password in her bag as well. She must be a blonde. Only they would be so stupid. Now, if only it had internet, a wish too far. Maybe if the blonde was here as well – that’d be a wish way too far. Still at least I can play solitaire.

Having quickly gotten fed up with that game, I decided to write my own story and tell the world of how I came to be here and how I survived, LUCKY ME. That reminds me not to play the lottery again, ha, ha, ha. I crack myself up sometimes. They say it’s a sign of madness when you laugh at your own jokes. But when you’re the only one around, who else is there? I’ve told the palms all my best jokes and no response. Maybe I need to work on my delivery?

So the floats bobbing in the water and I’ve fired up the laptop, in the shade its cooler and easier to see the screen. I still remember buying a stick on screen for my tablet at home, with the promise of easy viewing in the direct sun…”BULLSHIT YOU WANKERS…IT DON’T WORK.”

Right that said, I’ll start. I’d best give you a short description of myself. Otherwise you might wonder when you find these bleached bones half buried in the sand, who the hell was this tosser? My name is Richard Head. Yes that is correct - Richard Head. My dad had a strange, sick sense of humor. Dick Head is what I’ve been called ever since I can remember. If you think being called Sue is bad, Mr Jonny Cash, then try my name.

I was born in London’s East End, when being a cockney meant something and everyone spoke English. I suppose you think I’m racist. Wrong again. I have had many friends that were from different races, I’m just saying that’s all. I am really your normal run of the mill bloke - average height and build and thinning hair - that was the last time I looked into a mirror. At 56 years old, I’m a proud grandfather many times over, eighteen times to be precise with another on the way. Shit, it’s probably nearly one and a half now and I don’t even know its name or sex. It’s like my kids are trying to repopulate the world single handed. China you’re looking second best at the moment compared to my lot.

I had been working as a site manager for a building company and been doing this job for ten years. Over time there’d been many changes. In fact, too many for me, so I was looking for a new challenge. I wanted something that had nothing to do with construction in the UK and toyed with going back to Germany to work as a bricklayer.

This work is all I’d ever known since I was thirteen. All my life I’ve worked. My kids still don’t believe me when I told them, I’d been working since I was eight years old. Me and my older brother cleaned cars in the town car park, long before the eastern boys got in on the act, and I did a paper round at eleven for two years cycling four miles before I had even delivered a paper. I did three years in the Royal Green Jackets severing in Northern Ireland, Germany and the USA.

After completing a bricklaying apprenticeship and having worked for many tossers, I went to Germany and did the Brits on tour for nine years, then went on to running sites. Yes I could have gone higher in the company but just didn’t want to, I like the construction animal; he is a different breed to any other I know.

So how lucky did I feel when an agency contacted me saying they had just the job for someone of my skill and experience. The Cook Islands was the place the guy told me. Not that I had a clue where that was. But I knew it wasn’t in the UK and that was good enough for me.

The wages were way above what I was on at the moment. Alright, I knew that was the carrot and had a director not annoyed me minutes earlier then I may have said no, but I didn’t and I said yes. “Yeah, tell you what, count me in,” I told the agency guy.

Afterwards, when I bragged about being head hunted, my wife Tina said she wasn‘t interested in coming. Okay, I thought, that sounds about right; we could do with a break from each other. How wrong can one man be? Very wrong it appears, I miss her so much and wonder what she’s doing now? Getting shagged senseless, I bet.

How did I come up with that? Simple really. I must have been classed as dead by now and she’s a woman who has needs, just like myself. At least she can do it with someone, unlike me - the crack one off king of Two Tree Island, my name for this sand bar I call home, STOP MOANING AND WRITE TOSSER. Sorry, sometimes I need a good kick up the arse.

Suddenly, the rod leapt from my side and I raced to stop it from disappearing into the water, picking it up in my left hand and with a spear in the other. I pulled the line in slowly and waited as the baby shark sped on to take my catch and speared it.

“Shark steak, not a T bone. In fact not even close.”

So I’m standing on the beach dressed in a shocking pink woman’s dress with a big floppy sun hat and no I’m not wearing a bra or thong. Maybe I’ll try them tomorrow.

With the baby shark killed I can continue writing. I’m not putting the line back in the water as the shark will do me for a couple of days. The funny thing is - not so long ago - I was close to being eaten by its mum or dad. I didn’t hang around to ask which.

I’d been standing in the water trying to spear a fish when two baby sharks swam close by and I thought that’s strange, then they turned and headed straight for me which as a city boy made me turn and run. Good job I did as I saw a bloody great shark heading towards me. Shit! I didn’t think anything could move that fast in water. Luckily for me, I’m fast on my feet and was out of the water so quickly that I would have given Jesus a run for his money on the walking on water trick.

Sitting on the sand, I burst out laughing insanely, more from fear and relief than anything else. It made me watch the place and soon I worked out it must be a spot that the sharks use for a sort of safe haven for their young. That was until Dick Head arrived and spoilt everything, as our American friends would say, “Shit happens.” But I digress, where were we, Doris, you old slapper? Shit, I’m talking to a machine now, I’ll have to watch that won’t we, Doris? Doris is the name I have given the laptop.

Chapter 2:

The Flight

So as I was saying, I got this job offer and with a rush of blood to the head, I packed a bag and passport and set off for Heathrow Terminal 4 and freedom. Had I known I was to have this much freedom, I’d have run a mile and never looked back.

“Reader, be aware of what you wish for.”

There I was in departures waiting for the gate to come up on the board, I’ve flown many times and every time I’ve never really liked it. My solution is to have a few beers. Not this time, I’d had a curry with Tina the night before and was suffering with Bombay Bum. At the time, I’d thought Tina had gotten the cook to put something in my food, wish she had now. So I’m watching the board for my gate and running for the toilet. I was sure I hadn’t anything left in my guts to come out. Seems I was wrong I had loads.

My gate number came up and I went for another shit before dashing to the gate, asking for the nearest toilet when I got there. Luckily, it was right next to my gate. In the twenty minutes that we were waiting to board, I went three more times until the lady at the gate asked me, “Nervous, sir?”

“No, just a bad curry last night and after this I can tell you I’m not full of shit - that’s for sure,” I joked.

The joke fell on deaf ears; her expression never changed, although I’m sure some of the waiting passengers were hoping not to get me as a travelling companion.

I had requested an aisle seat. The company had sent enough money for a first class ticket. Me being a tight arse, I brought one in cattle class and pocketed the rest. This is what saved my life, that and a bout of the shits from a dodgy curry. Even before we took off, I had to use the loo again, I was sitting next to Steve, a male nurse. He was a keen parachutist and showed me the one he was carrying as hand luggage. He said he’d never trust anyone with his baby.

I told him I’d done twenty jumps when I was in the army. He said that military jumps were different. They were all sport jumps, I informed him and I’d also done sixteen free fall jumps. We got on well and he told me he was on his way to a new life in New Zealand.

He had lots of cures for me, not that any seemed to work at that time. Still, he was a good laugh; he had loads of funny stories from his time in A&E.

One that stuck with me was about a bloke that came in with just the green top of a carrot sticking out of his bum. I laughed so much but before he could continue, I needed the loo again. It was worth the delay as he continued.

“I’m telling yer, Dick, the green top was all that we could see, Shit, mate, I had to walk out and cried with laughter in the hallway. It seems he could hear me. The doctor wasn’t happy when I returned and told me so. All that changed when the guy asked if it could do him any harm being in his bum and I replied. No mate you can count it as one of your five a day. The place erupted and we soon ran out of tissues, Dick, you should have been there, pal.”

Steve kept up his funny stories for over an hour before we both fell asleep. The shits seemed to have stopped which was at least something. Hours later I woke to find Steve snoring his head off and the sky was still dark so I switched on the TV in the headrest in front of me. The plane droned on and for how long I watched the discovery programs I wasn’t sure. Tina used to call it a room emptier because as soon as I put it on the kids and she would leave the room. You can learn a lot from this so-called shit I’d tell them.

I had watched Bear Grylls five shows and loved every minute. Good job really as it has served me well so far. Feeling better, I accepted a meal that was coming around plus a beer. What harm could it do? Fucking loads as it turned out. The pilot spoke over the intercom that due to a large tropical storm, we would be changing course to miss it.

What he failed to tell the passengers was that the plane was experiencing some serious technical problems; this was why they had changed course. As it turned out, it was a bad move by the pilot. Unknowingly, he turned into the storm, which had now become a typhoon, a category 5+ the biggest typhoon ever recorded.

So there I was dashing back and forth to the toilet, while Steve laughed at my condition. On one of my sorties, or bumming missions as he now called them, I was waiting for a trap to come free. A stewardess was showing a new girl where the emergency oxygen bottle was stored and how to use it. Now that’s handy I thought, as even I was gagging at the smell of my shits now. As it happens it did come in handy but not for my smelly shits.

Back in my seat, I was constantly moving and not through worry either, my arse was on fire and the urge to shit was still strong. The plane started to bounce around a bit more than before. Then to my despair, the seat belt light came on.

Minutes later, the plane was making some violent movements just like my guts. Suddenly it dropped. How far I didn’t know before climbing again. Some of the passengers screamed in terror while others prayed. This had just turned in to a white knuckle ride that no one wanted to be on.

Then my guts did a somersault and what was still in them, raced to get out. I had no choice and dashed for the toilet.

The new stewardess tried and failed to stop me as I slammed the door shut and only just got my trousers down in time. The hot stinging fluid burnt my ring piece so much I yelled. Not that anyone heard me through the screams. The plane suddenly shot upwards and then sideways, I just managed to hold on and stop myself from being thrown to the floor. I’d done lots of flying and knew this was bad, very bad. Then I heard what seemed like someone banging on the fuselage.

Now I may have had a few beers although not that much could still be inside me, but even I knew no one was outside knocking to get in. Then something big hit the plane, big enough to gain everyone’s attention mine included. The plane made a groaning straining noise, like a huge animal going through its death throes. Even through all the passengers screaming, I heard what sounded like the sound of a car being crushed in a scrap yard, metal and plastic was tearing its self apart.

The oxygen mask dropped from the compartment over me, at the same time all the passengers’ screaming stopped. I pulled my mask over my mouth as we’d been shown and just sat there… As the hose for the mask didn’t stretch far enough for me to open the door I took a deep breath and went for it. The door was stuck for a second then the fear in me must have released a bucket load of adrenalin, I nearly ripped it off its hinges and poked my head out a little bit.

Nothing seemed out of place or that’s what I thought at that moment, ducking back in and taking a few more breaths more to calm myself more than the need for air. I knew something was very wrong and the only way I was going to find out was to go and look for myself. Then I remembered the spare oxygen bottle and decided to go for it. At least I’d be able to move around the cabin. Why hadn’t the pilot told us about what was happening? And even stranger the stewardess hadn’t come around either.

I’m not one for waiting around. Fire and then aim is my normal way of dealing with things. “Focus on the oxygen bottle, Dick. You know where it is. Get it and use it, shove the girls aside if need be…you can do this, son…NOW GO.” I said out loud. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and dashed for the cabinet that I knew held the oxygen bottle. The sight that met my eyes stopped me dead in my tracks and I screamed in terror. That scream took most of the breath I had in my lungs so now, getting more oxygen was my main concern.

Pushing everything out of my head, I tore the cabinet door open and grasped the bottle. Panic made me drop it; it rolled to the other side of the plane. “FUCK IT,” I screamed and dived across the galley floor.

Swooping it up, I ripped the cover off. Fear has a way of giving you amazing strength. Like a drowning man, I sucked deeply on the oxygen filling my lungs. I sat there and for the first time looked around.

The three stewardesses were all buckled in and clearly dead, one had her eyes hanging out of her face, I threw up on the floor, well, I tried to but nothing came out. Steadying myself, I stood up using the cabinet as support and stuck my head around the side to see how the rest of the plane had faired. I could have cried. The front half was gone and I was looking at open space where the rest of the plane should have been. Taking a few more breaths I tried to calm myself. What to I do now, I thought. My brain’s survival mode kicked into top gear and I stopped panicking. I put on a life jacket.

Everything seemed to go in slow motion. Even the debris still flying around the cabin slowed. I headed for my seat, looking around as I did so. Some passenger’s eyes were wide open. Their faces showing their fear before they died. Stopping by my seat, I looked down at Steve. He seemed like he was asleep, but I knew he was dead. “Lucky bastard” I said to his dead body “You never knew what hit you. Did yer? No more parachuting for you now, son.”

While this thought went through my head another thought occurred to me; his parachute in the overhead locker - could I use it? Without a second to waste, I took it out and put it on. Properly on the second attempt. On the first I had it on upside down. Strangely I still wasn’t panicking, I don’t know why. I mean I’m no hero - just a normal bloke. But my brain was in control now as I went back to the galley and put as much water and Mars bars as I could inside my jacket.

Looking up at the gaping hole in the plane I walked towards it. The sun was just coming up and again, I felt no fear or panic. As the plane slowly spun, I could see the other half in the distance and stupidly waved. Walking up to the last set of seats I stopped and waited, my brain had worked out that the plane was slowly spinning and at one point for a few seconds there was complete stillness. This was going to be the time for me to jump, and I was still not scared. In the front seats sat four young girls in their mid- twenties I guessed. All of them were strapped in and had lost their tops - four pairs of young firm breasts stared back at me. Just my luck, I let the first spin go and again the second... scared now fucking scared... here comes the third spin... it’s now or never... jump or die. Biting down hard on the oxygen’s mouth piece, I looked at my hands.

Shit, they were shaking so badly. Could I pull the cord? Right that second I wanted a piss, why now and if I did go, I knew I’d end up cracking one off the way my hands were shaking so much.

Chapter 3:

Into the Typhoon’s Inferno