Post #230599 by hewey on Fri, May 5, 2006 12:43 AM

I was ship wrecked on an umarked reef off a small tropical island. In the moonlight I could see a thin whisp of smoke rising towards the skies, and the fires on the island glowed in the darkness. As I paddled on a piece of flotsam towards the island, the sound of bongo drums was carried by the salt laden wind.

As I neared the beach, the drumming stopped. As I reached the beach, I was too fatigued to notice the figures before me, or the crate that had washed up alongside. The last thing I remember is a tribal warrior advancing towards, spear at the ready...

I awoke the next morning in a hut surrounded by curvacious young island girls in grass skirts and coconut bikinis. They were fanning me with palm leaves, and proceeded to feed me a platter of tropical fruits. They spoke no English, and I was unaware of their simple dialect. We communicated via simple hand singles and laughed nervously with each other.

It turned out that the object that washed up in the surf with me was a crate of the finest Rum. The chief was pleased with my offering to the tribe. I learnt later that other explorers had not been so lucky, and had been sacrificed to the tiki god who chilled out in the local volcano.

Then English missionaries came in and brought the word of god to the local heathens. The young nubiles locals covered up, and the rum was gone. Paradise ws lost.

I left the islands in sorrow. I have reverted back to a civilised lifestyle. But I still like to revert to my savage past and roast up some long pig, served with rum. Tc is my connection with the past.

Seriously - I have no idea how i got here (I'm not even sure how I got into tiki in the first place!). Probably just googled "tiki" to find TC I think.