There are those born to explore, and there are those who have exploration thrust upon them. Max Sidebottom-Smythe had shifted to the latter, he realised, as his island sank slowly beneath him.
Worse than that, he was nude, as any self-respecting marooned explorer would soon find him or herself in his position, he had told himself many times, but he knew it was not going to be mermaids attracted to floppy parts, but rather sharks. He could always keep his legs still, he sighed, but even a small shark…
He was now shoulder-deep in water, soon to be neck-deep. As an unabashed optimist he could have said his head was still free of water for surely a few wonderfully air-full hours, but as Max could not swim, his reserves of optimism were drawing thin, he had to admit.
Still, the view was nice. Kind of.